Today her slippers were delicate and her stockings made of silk. He stroked his fingertips up and down the length of one calf.
“You don’t know how many times I…” She trembled. Was she embarrassed?
“You thought of this?” Reed finished for her.
She nodded into his neck. “Last summer… I grew rather fond of you.”
Reed’s breath caught. Was she going to change her mind?
But she was right. She would lose everything. It wouldn’t be fair to make her give it all up. “What do you want, Goldie?” he asked instead.
“This. I just want this.”
He walked his fingers higher on her leg.
“This?”
She nodded again.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” This had nothing to do with him marrying her. This was pure, unadulterated attraction.
He would not seduce her into changing her mind. Reed clenched his jaw.
“Yes,” she said. Her legs parted in a timeless invitation.
“When you find this husband you’re going to land.” Reed stroked the silk of her stockings. “Be sure he makes you feel special.”
She stared at him silently, her mouth parted as though she had something to say.
But nothing came out.
Reed inched up to where her stockings ended and delicate skin, softer than any silk ever made, beckoned him to keep exploring.
Goldie kept her gaze locked with his. “Yes,” she said. And then… “How?”
“Let yourself feel,” he said. Reed nudged her thighs wider. Finding delicate curls, he slid his fingers along her folds. He didn’t need to ask if she liked this; pleasure flushed her face and her eyes glowed. She licked her lips, her breath hitched, and his fingers were soaked with her arousal.
His cock pushed hard against her bottom but would remain firmly tucked inside his breeches.
Curling his finger, he entered her slowly and watched as her pupils dilated.
Just for her. Just this once. She’d not go into her season like a lamb to the slaughter. She’d know a thing or two of her own needs.
Reed only wished he could use his mouth. And he wished he could know her completely.
But this wasn’t love. This was desire—a far more tangible emotion than what she wanted.
The only kind he knew how to match.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “If you were mine, I’d lay you out on my bed, and I’d memorize every inch of you—with my eyes, my hands… and with my mouth.”
He added a second finger, relishing in her velvety warmth as her muscles clenched around him. “And then I’d cover you with my weight. I’d lick you, and taste you, and fill you with my cock, making you mine forever.”
She closed her eyes and tensed. A teardrop formed at the corner of one eye, and Reed captured it on his tongue. And as she pulsed and squeezed his hand between her thighs, Reed wondered if he’d missed his chance. He could beg her to be his. Promise her the love that mattered so much to her.
What was love, anyway?
He could cajole her, offer her promises. The idea taunted him but he refused to allow it to take hold.
