At last he pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers as they both panted with desire.
“And what is this?” she asked when she could find any words at all.
He drew back, searching her face. Then he took her hand and led her to the settee. “That is what we should decide. That’s why you’re here.” She settled into a place and he moved away from her to the sideboard. “Would you like tea?”
“Something stronger, I think, despite the early hour,” she gasped out.
He laughed. “You and I are of a mind. I tried to convince Callum to have a brandy with me earlier and he acted like I had lost my senses.”
She smiled, feeling the wobbliness of it. “I could soften mine, at the very least. I’ll take the brandy he refused.”
“Excellent.” He poured two snifters of what she guessed was his best and returned to the settee to take a place beside her. He didn’t touch her, not when he handed over her drink, not when he sat down, but he never stopped watching her, even as he feigned being casual and took a sip of the alcohol.
“How do you usually hold these negotiations?” she asked.
He smiled and that, at least, was real. “I suppose I’ve never done so as formally,” he admitted.
“But you think in this case that being formal is needed.”
“Yes.” He hesitated a beat and then said, “Etta, I know what I want.”
She blinked. “You—you do?”
“Yes. I want to do what we did last night. I want to do it often. I want to taste you and touch you and please you over and over again. I want you sweaty and shaky in my bed, I want you moaning for more. I want to teach you new ways to drive me wild, to drive yourself wild.”
Her lips parted almost against her will at the images that frank admission put in her mind. Of this man over her, under her, inside of her. “I see,” she squeaked.
“But I also know exactly what that means and what it will look like and feel like when it happens. From our conversation last night, I think you don’t have that same experience. So the real question, when we talk about the future of any affair we might indulge in, is what doyouwant?”
She swallowed. She’d spent a lifetime not being asked what she wanted. Her needs were rarely considered by the men in her life. So the idea of the freedom to decide on a path for herself was almost overwhelming.
“What are my choices?” she asked.
He finished his drink and set it aside, which left him free to rest his hand along the back of the settee. His fingers traced her shoulder lightly and she let her eyes flutter shut briefly because it felt so good.
“When you said that you wanted to take a lover the night of the wedding, it seemed like it was about one night of passion. A taste of what your friends had found. We had that last night, it was glorious. If that is all you want, that’s fine. One night of pleasure, we return to being friends. No harm done, a happy memory for us both.”
“But you said you wanted more,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “We’re not talking about me. Is that enough foryou?”
She thought about the question, thought about last night, thought about how she’d awoken alone in her bed, still achy and needy for him. How she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him all morning.
After a long, shaky breath, she whispered, “Do you know how hard it is to sit here next to you?”
His brow wrinkled. “Is it?”
She nodded. She’d never been brave like this before, but the idea that she could lose what they’d started made her so. It made her want to be honest. So she was.
“When you’re touching my shoulder like that, all I want to do is lean into you. When I can smell you, I want to taste you. If we stop at one night, I fear everything will be changed between us forever, no matter how I try not to make it so. Because I’ll still want you, Theo.” She dropped her gaze. “And I know that makes me a terrible wanton.”
“No it doesn’t,” he said with a snort. “I asked you what you wanted. You’re telling me. There isn’t a wrong answer.”
She wasn’t certain he was right. Many people, after all, would insist that this entire endeavor was wrong. But Theo had never been like other people. That was always why she’d liked him so much. She liked him still.
“If you want more,” she said. “I do too.”
“Good.” His fingers slid farther down her shoulder, playing along the hem of her short sleeve. “Do you know how long you want this to go on?”
