“For…?” He shifted his stare to the bed, and dash it all, heat flooded her cheeks. “There is always time for that.”
“It’s just that once you get started, you keep me occupied for hours.”
“Is that a dare?” He had her pressed against him again, much less politely than their embrace on the street. His knee was pushing through her skirts, edging her knees apart. “I can have you satisfied and breathless in less than five minutes.” He bent his head, pushing her bodice down with his mouth.
“Would you care to wager on that?” Five minutes. She could hold him off for five minutes. It wasn’t as though she was a complete wanton.
“Oh, sweetheart. You really need to recognize when you are out of your depths.” The scraping of stubble along her breasts served as fair warning. She clutched his arms with her hands and twisted to read the clock on the mantle.
“It’s quarter past the hour,” she murmured vaguely.
“If I haven’t brought you to completion by twenty after—” Good God, she was already halfway there. “—then you’ll allow me to bend you over my knee later tonight, after the ball.”
“But that would be scandalous. Is that something you’d dare with a proper lady?”
“Yes. And this time, there will be no one around to stop me.”
She trembled at the thought. Not because she was afraid but because ever since…
“You’re on.” How many times had she heard him, or her brother, or any of their other gentlemen friends accept a wager in such a manner?
Chase stopped his sensual onslaught long enough to stare into her eyes. “You know I’ll never hurt you.” The words sounded like much more than just a promise—more like a vow. Not a declaration of love, but it had potential.
She’d be satisfied with what he could give her—for now.
“I know.” She lifted herself onto her toes so she could reach his lips. When she dropped back down, the smile she sent him felt extraordinarily wicked. “You’ve wasted almost a full minute, husband.”
Of course, she’d already decided he could have his way with her later tonight, but that didn’t mean she would allow him an easy victory.
“You’ll do just as I say? You’ll cooperate?”
“Of course.” When had her voice come to sound so breathy?
Her heart raced as she anticipated what he would do next.
Only he did not sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Or take a knife to the fasteners of her gown. In fact, he stepped away and crossed his arms in front of him.
“Climb onto the bed.”
Her heart beat even louder now. As gracefully as she could manage, she scrambled up the two steps and lowered herself onto the mattress. In the spirit of competition, she arranged herself daintily, knees pressed together, not quite curled beneath her.
“Ah, ah ah.” He took one step toward her. “Lay back.”
She did as he said.
“Gather your skirts up to your hips.”
Her breath hitched. Drat him, his gravelly voice alone had desire skating down her spine.
Was he going to use his hands again? His mouth? Was he going to put himself inside? Not knowing what would come next sent wet heat to her core.
“You enjoy seeing… everything? Watching?” she whispered, slowly scrunching the material of her gown into her fists.
She’d never taken to wearing pantaloons as some ladies did. Her only undergarments, a light chemise, stockings, and garters, would do nothing to provide any modesty.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was out of her depths.
“Higher, sweetheart. And open your legs, Beth. I love seeing you—all of you—so pink and soft.” The baritone sounds of his voice dropped lower. He’d moved closer to the bed but refrained from touching her. “Plump. Glistening with desire.”
