“Are you sure?” he rasped.
Before she could ask what he meant, he kissed her again.
This time, her arms came up of their own accord, looping around his shoulders. Supple, hot skin flinched under her fingertips, and she let one hand skate up the back of his neck toward the damp tangle of hair.
She barely touched it before hands closed around her wrists and pulled them down, none-too-gently. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flew open.
Stephen loomed over her, haloed by candlelight, and there was a strange look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He pressed her wrists into the rumpled blankets on either side of her head. He didn’t hold her tight enough to bruise, of course, but the pressure sent a clear message.
Don’t touch.
“You lost this round, remember?” he grunted.
She gulped. It sounded far too loud in the quiet space. “Round? Is this a hunt or a game? Make up your mind.”
“So sharp-tongued,” he whispered, voice silver-smooth. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
He leaned down, and Amelia assumed that he meant to kiss her again. She tilted up her chin and closed her eyes, but his lips landed on the side of her neck instead. The skin there shivered under the onslaught. She felt a graze of teeth and gasped loudly.
Stephen moved, sliding downward. She watched with wide-eyed shock as he shuffled back until he could place his feet on the floor again.
“So lovely,” he breathed, so quietly that she barely heard him, and wondered briefly if that comment was meant for her. “No time, I’m afraid.”
No time? What does that mean?
He placed a flat hand on her collar, his palm hot, his fingertips oh-so-gently pressing into her skin, and let it slide downward. Her breath hitched as his palm moved over the curve of one breast. His mouth twitched at the corner, as if holding back a smile. His touch didn’t slow, sliding purposefully over her stomach.
Then he cupped her hips firmerly, and the heat that had been pooling in her gut flared bright and sharp. His questing hands tickled their way down the outside of her thighs, and she realized with an uncomfortable jolt that she wanted him to touch her properly. The light caress was all very well, but the sensation only danced at the edge of what she wanted.
Should I tell him? Would it break the spell? Should I?—
The thought was interrupted when Stephen curled his hands around her knees and jerked, hauling her effortlessly toward the end of the bed. Amelia couldn’t help it—she squeaked, flailing as the blankets twisted tighter around her. Her hips hitthe edge of the mattress, leaving her perched there, decidedly uncomfortable.
Is this it, then? Is this when I give up my virtue without so much as a flicker of resistance? Oh, Mama would be furious.
But then, I suppose Mama was not a pinnacle of virtue, either.
She squeezed her eyes shut, until a rustle of fabric caught her attention. Cool air ghosted over her knees, and she realized with a jolt that he had lifted her skirts, the material crumpling around her waist. She lifted her head, still not quite daring to move her hands from where Stephen had placed them so pointedly.
He glanced up at the same moment she glanced down, and their eyes met. Heat simmered behind his lashes, more intense than she could have imagined. It made her gasp raggedly, and he surged forward, catching her lips with his own.
The kiss, if it could be called a kiss, lasted a heartbeat. Then he was gone again, trailing down her body. This time, when he caught her gaze, he sank slowly to his knees, pushing her thighs apart with deliberate slowness.
Amelia opened her mouth, whether to request an update or voice her concerns, she did not know. At any rate, she never did manage to speak. Warm fingers slid up the inside of her thighs, the pressure more determined now. Higher and higher they went until they reached the spot between her legs. When his fingertips brushed against her wet heat, she had a suddenand vivid impression of a flint striking, sparks glowing in the darkness.
This touch—Stephen’stouch—was languid but assured, sliding against her and tracing out a line. He repeated the motion in the same unhurried way, and a ragged gasp tore from her throat.
Faster, she wanted to urge him.If you could only move faster, it would… I would…
She would what, exactly? The sensations were new, all of them. She had no idea where all of this was going, but Stephen certainly did seem to know.
I should stop it,warned a sour little voice at the back of her mind.This is how women find themselves heavy with child and nowhere to go.
She silenced the voice with determination. Stephen’s touches ceased, and she fought the desire to voice her disappointment.
Then his tongue—histongue—licked a slow and deliberate path through her folds.
Amelia jolted at that, her breath stuttering. He chuckled, actuallychuckled, and the reverberations echoed through her body. His lips moved against her, just as assured as before, and this time she began to feel something building inside her, something new.
