“Sweet dreams, Mother.”
She closed the door and turned the key as quietly as possible—if Lady Carlisle heard it, she’d no doubt be suspicious—then she marched over to the curtains and yanked the one beside the wardrobe back to reveal Nicholas.
“How difficult is it to be quiet?” she demanded, glaring up at him.
His hand was plastered to his mouth, and his shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter. He didn’t look sorry at all.
She jabbed him in the chest. “She could have heard you.”
He lowered his hand and snickered. “I can only imagine how she’d react if she knew why you were truly flushed.”
Her cheeks burned, and she had no doubt they were even redder than they’d been moments earlier. “You are incorrigible.”
He pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, her eyes narrowing as she felt rapid puffs of breath against the top of her head.
He was still laughing, the cad.
Nevertheless, she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m going to have to get used to you misbehaving, aren’t I?”
“I’m unlikely to change now.” He released her and seemed to get himself under control, although the corner of his mouth kept tugging up into a half smile. “I’d best return to my room before anyone notices something amiss.”
“Wait!”
He stopped, one eyebrow raised.
A sense of urgency pulsed through her. He hadn’t actually made any kind of commitment to her. If he walked away now, would he decide while they were apart that she wasn’t worth risking a rift between himself and his mother?
She couldn’t bear it if everything went back to the way it was. Not when she finally knew how it felt to have him kiss her and look at her as if she was special.
She couldn’t lose him.
Perhaps if he stayed for just a while longer, he’d see how perfect they were for each other. She could—
“Sophie?” he asked when she didn’t go on.
“May I have more kisses?” she asked, reveling in the way his warmth bled through the fabric of their clothes. “Just one or two?”
His expression softened, and he kissed her forehead. “You may have all the kisses you want, but let’s get comfortable first.”
He guided her to the bed and helped her lie down, then stretched himself alongside her. There was something appealing about seeing him this way, all tender gazes and languid limbs.
She wriggled closer to him, staring at his lips. They were slightly swollen from kissing her and… doingthat. Would she taste herself on them?
She brushed her lips over his, frissons of awareness skating over her nerves as he laid his hand on her hip. Was his touch possessive, or was that wishful thinking?
Fortunately, he took over the kiss, because her courage only went so far. His tongue delved into her mouth, and there was a hint of something she thought might have been her own flavor. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
Their lips parted briefly—enough for her to snatch a breath—and then joined again.
The kiss went on and on, her body melting farther into the mattress with each caress. The effect was drugging. Not a single clear thought remained in her head, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She skimmed her hands down his body, tracing the contours of his ribs and abdomen, his hips, and down over his bottom. Then, too intrigued to resist, she circled aroundto his front and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.
He gasped. “Do you even—”
Before he could finish, she was exploring the rigid flesh beneath, her mouth falling open in surprise at the shape and heft of it. She’d known for years that men were built differently from women, but she’d had little idea of what to expect.
His member was longer than her hand from wrist to fingertip and thick enough that she could only just get her fingers properly around it. The skin was smooth and hot, and there was a thatch of hair at its base.
