His voice dropped, huskier than I’d heard it. “It stands to reason you’re a conduit of change. The events you call forth can’t be ignored.”
Draw’s eyes had taken a sudden intensity. He flicked his gaze down to my lips, then back up.
I was glad I had the pillow in front of me because I was sure my nipples had responded to the chill.
“Lady Dottie,” he said again. “Can I kiss you?”
I only then realized I’d unconsciously leaned into him when I sat upright.
Draw was a pleasant side character who sidestepped both enemies of the queen and plot holes as if he were doing the tango. Admirable, effective, but there was no pleasure in reworking a character’s sexual preferences so they would like me in my own fantasies, so I’d never thought of the book Lord Draw in that way.
And here he was, growing more real by the moment, a friend, I thought. A handsome one, but one I couldn’t objectify on demand. Ironclaw was different—somehow still fictional.
I held still, thinking, looking into Draw’s olive eyes, the candles casting his high cheekbones in gentle relief...
“I don’t think that’s going to solve anything,” I said at last.
“If no is your answer, I understand.”
“I’m not sayingno. You’re very attractive, but I’ve thought of you one way—”
“Thewrongway. Please? I love women’s bodies, and as long as Ironclaw isn’t around, I often get them.”
I snorted a laugh. “I’m sorry, I just... I’ve never seen you beg.”
“Fine. I’ve been with three men andonewoman, a woman I greatly enjoyed my time with.You’rea beautiful woman. I’ve seen men looking at you since you got here. Yesterday, I wasn’t sure of you myself. A dalliance with a thoughtless nymph is not my style. But that’s not what you are, is it? Yes, I’d like to be written down correctly, but you’re growing increasingly appealing to me.”
I bit my lip, and he took my hesitation as a challenge, slowly tugging the pillow away. He rested one arm on the chair, bringing him even closer.
His eyes swept down my body, and I knew, this time, he saw the twin pearls on my chest. He brushed a thumb against my exposed forearm. When his eyes darted back to mine, it sent a shock to my stomach. I had no doubt that if Sherry Whitehorse was writing this scene, she’d say my pupils dilated and my breath sped up.
What was I there for, if not to—what did Sorrel say?—loosen up?
I had to admit, the attention Draw was lavishing me with was intoxicating.
I leaned into him as he gently placed one hand on my neck and wound his fingers up into my damp hair. My lips parted, but he didn’t move into them like I expected.
Instead, he left the stool and went to his knees in front of me, tipping forward into the chair, his body straining the fabric of my nightdress across my knees.
“You should know,” he whispered, “I can invent all kinds of reasons, but I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”
He brushed his lips against mine, nearly a question, and then I shuddered into him, kissing him back. His hands became more urgent at the back of my neck before moving down to my shoulders, pulling me toward him. He was an urgent kisser, as if he needed to take me in, taste me. I found myself responding, leaning into him so much that we stumbled to the floor, kneeling in front of each other.
He wound an arm around my waist and easily pulled me in. One hand went to my hips to hold me against him, while the other cradled my head, all the while kissing me. I felt a hunger explode inside me and kissed him deeply.
I felt so much in that moment, desire yes, but also a tenderness for Draw I hadn’t expected.
Then, without knowing why, I pulled back. He straightened halfway, as well, breathless. He made to run his hand up my side but stopped, realizing I had paused.
“I can’t—um, I’m not ready to do more than that,” I said.
“Of course.”
We detangled ourselves and stood. I felt his eyes on my face, rapidly trying to read what I was thinking.
It was starting to feel awkward so I smiled and patted his arm. “Thank you.”Ugh, don’tthankhim.“I liked it a lot.”
Then I fled the room.
