“You have been?
“I have.” Simon opened a door and gestured for her to enter.
“This is the master chamber?” Her eyes were wide, and her voice an awed whisper. “We shouldn’t come in here. I’m quite certain he cannot have meant his private chamber to be part of our tour.”
Simon wasn’t certain of anything except the fact that he experienced far too much satisfaction seeing her standing at the foot of his bed.
He closed the door behind him. “It’s fine.”
He watched as she smoothed her hand over the coverlet. Damned ironic that he had her in his bedchamber and…
“Go ahead. Sit on it.”
“It’s a duke’s bed.” She shook her head.
“Go on. It’s only a bed,” he urged.
She surprised him by smiling mischievously and then climbing the three steps, where she turned and dropped to sit at the edge of the mattress. “Just for a minute. And we’ll have to make sure I don’t leave any wrinkles on the counterpane.”
But Simon had other ideas—all of which would leave the bedding more than a little wrinkled.
Standing at the bed beside her, he reached up to exert a gentle pressure. She had no choice but to lay back.
“Simon,” she warned.
But her gaze held his, almost as though she knew precisely where he was going with this.
“Comfortable?” He cocked a brow.
“We shouldn’t. We can’t.”
“That, Miss Faraday, sounds like a challenge.”
Her head rested on his pillow, her face slightly flushed, her hands at her sides. A sense of rightness spread through him.
“Someone will come,” she whispered.
“We won’t be interrupted.” He stroked his fingertips down her arm and she shivered. “Before I begin cursing my wrist again, pull down your bodice for me.” Simon felt suspended in this moment. “I want to see you.”
He half expected her to refuse—to go running out of the room as a proper lady ought to do.
Instead, she reached up, shrugged her shoulders, and tugged the fabric downward. Without baring herself completely, however, she crossed her hands over her chest.
“We can’t do this here.” She clung to her last vestige of caution… of modesty.
“We can do whatever we damn well please.” He pulled one hand down and with a sigh she moved the other, revealing plump, pert breasts, the tips tight and rigid.
“Do you know how irresistible you look right now?”
“Do I?”
“Oh, yes.” Simon cradled one breast with his palm. “You like me to touch you.”
“I do. More than I should.” Her voice caught.
He squeezed, watching her pupils dilate. And then he rolled the tight bud between his fingers.
“Simon.” She arched her back, offering more of herself to him.
