Matthew moved his mouth… but not to her own. Instead, he first sought the palm she’d been holding against his cheek. The feathery touch sent pleasure shimmering down her arm. When his tongue darted out, she gasped, not from shock but delight. Her body quivered but not as it had last night. This tremor was wonderful.
Matthew’s teeth scraped ever so slightly against her skin as he worked his way down to her wrist. When he licked the creasesthere, a deep moan escaped from Charlotte. She had never made such a sound in her life—she never thought herself capable of an utterance like that. But then she’d never realized that such maddening, sparkling yearning existed.
If her left arm had not been in a sling and tightly bound to her side, she would have flung it around Matthew’s neck as well for balance. Matthew wrapped his arms about her. The lean muscles of his limbs pressed against her back, and suddenly she wanted to feel even more of his coiled strength. Just as she had the first time they’d reunited at the Black Sheep, she wanted to explore him—every well-shaped, delectable, sculpted inch.
Matthew’s mouth finally pressed against hers, warm and urgent, matching the billowing need inside her. She had experienced stolen kisses before but nothing like this.
Their lips rubbed against each other, but even that pressure was not enough. Remembering how Matthew’s tongue had created almost magical sensations throughout her entire body, Charlotte plunged hers inside his mouth. He gasped and pulled her closer. Encouraged, she plundered his mouth. Standing on her toes, she deepened their kiss. Feelings strummed through her, every piece of her vibrating with want and delight.
But she still needed more.
So, evidently, did Matthew. He hoisted her upward, and she instinctively tried to wrap her legs around his torso. Unfortunately, her skirts and undergarments made that impossible. Their lips still melded together, he carried her to the stone bench. It should have felt awkward or at least silly to have her feet dangling in the air as if she were floating, but all of her senses were preoccupied with the taste of Matthew, the feel of his body pressed against hers, the sound of his breathing, and even the fresh, clean smell of him.
As smoothly as Matthew had carried her across the orangery, their collapse onto the seat did not proceed as gracefully. As hebent to lower her, the voluminous fabric of her sack-back gown bunched awkwardly. Instead of compressing under the weight of her body, the extra fabric turned into a spring, propelling her toward Matthew. When he adjusted his position to catch her, his feet caught in her skirts.
He released her just as he tottered to a heap. Already off-balance, Charlotte toppled face-first. She landed smack on top of Matthew but with their bodies perpendicular to each other. Her decolletage was smushed against his forearm, while her lower half was draped over his chest.
Although she used her uninjured right arm to stop her fall, the impact still caused a ripple of pain. The wound had felt worse, but she couldn’t stop a hiss. Matthew instantly sat up to check her arm, but given their position, his nose nearly touched her posterior.
A giggle bubbled from Charlotte, and she didn’t even try to stop her mirth. Between peals of laughter, she managed to huff out, “I… am… fine.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” Matthew asked. “Perhaps I should inspect your injury.”
The giddiness made Charlotte bold. “At the moment, I would prefer an entirely different kind of examination.”
Matthew’s eyes widened, making them appear even more silvery. He looked so stunned that she laughed even harder. Finally, he joined her, his chuckles a deep contrast to her lighter ones. But the sounds harmonized into glorious crescendos of joy.
“This was not exactly how I envisioned the ending of our first kiss,” Matthew confessed, his voice crackling with amusement and happiness. “But I must say I like sharing a chuckle with you.”
His words sobered Charlotte as that odd combination of excitement and concern struck once again. She could only hope that it had been the real her that he’d been fantasizing about. Charlottedid not want to live up to some perfect version of herself that would come with expectations as confining as her parents’ dictates.
“Tell me about those imagined embraces,” Charlotte said, making her voice low and throaty as she rearranged herself to sit next to him on the floor. Her question was part flirtation, part subtle inquiry into how he had viewed her for all those years.
Matthew’s face flamed. He nervously clambered to his feet and awkwardly offered her his hand as if they hadn’t been plastered to each other only moments prior. Normally, she found his shyness endearing, but now she hoped it wasn’t a sign that he had imagined her to be absolutely flawless. He gestured for her to take a seat, and she complied, smoothing her skirts nervously. Her worries dimmed slightly when he joined her, the side of his body flush against hers. She leaned her head against his shoulder tentatively, and he did not pull away.
“You needn’t be alarmed,” Matthew told her softly, obviously misinterpreting whatever disquiet he sensed from her. “They were innocent daydreams—sweet kisses, perhaps a minuet or two.”
Charlotte didn’t mind sweet, but she did not want innocent. She was tired of being treated like a Meissen figurine. She wondered how Matthew would react if she did not embody the ingenuous, virtuous miss.
“Mine were not,” she said as she snagged the edge of his cravat.
“Pardon?” Matthew’s voice cracked a bit, and the tips of his ears turned a deep scarlet.
“My fantasies about you were not innocent.” Charlotte tugged on the knots of the cloth, unloosening it.
Matthew did not stop her. He glanced down, studying her busy fingers with wide-eyed wonderment. When his gaze returned to hers, he did not appear chiding and definitely not morally outraged. In fact, he looked adorably smitten.
“You’ve had fantasies about me?” Matthew asked.
Charlotte gently pulled on his neckerchief. The silk unfurled slowly, just in time to reveal his deep swallow. His throat muscles convulsed. Charlotte lightly placed her fingertip on his tightened Adam’s apple. She drew a faint line down to the top button of his waistcoat and gave it a light tap.
“When I saw you in the Black Sheep, I noticed your physique had changed… strengthened since I’d last laid eyes on you. I found myself wondering what was underneath all of your starchy layers.” She fiddled meaningfully with the thin circle of brass. Matthew’s gaze swept downward. With his throat exposed, it wasn’t hard for Charlotte to detect his gulp.
Heady anticipation pressed down upon her, thicker than even the humid air of the hothouse. Charlotte held still, hoping that Matthew would not reject this side of her—that he viewed her as a woman, not as a precious prize.
“I am yours to study.” Matthew’s voice sounded like raw, splintered wood, and the roughness slid across Charlotte’s body with a delicious friction. She shivered and fumbled with the button. Matthew did not try to assist her—he simply watched, allowing her to explore him at the pace she chose. His relinquishment of control caused a burst of tender excitement to explode inside Charlotte. Her fingers clenched around the smooth brass, and she involuntarily pulled. The threads popped. She was so startled that she jerked her arm back, sending the button sailing through the air.
It hit the floor with an inordinately loudping. Charlotte followed the flashing piece of metal with her eyes as it bounced in a wild pattern over the terra-cotta tile floor. Another helpless giggle escaped as she realized she was literally tearing the clothing off Matthew.
