She stood on shaking legs, the wine forgotten.
“Turn around.”
She turned, facing the fire, hyperaware of him behind her.
“I’m going to undress you now.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Slowly. And you’re going to let me. You’re not going to move unless I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” His fingers found the first button of her dress.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Better. But in here, in private, you’ll call me Adrian. Or husband. Or—” he smiled against her neck “—my lord, if you’re feeling particularly obedient.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“We’ll see.” He worked the buttons with maddening slowness, his knuckles brushing her spine with each one. “You’re trembling again.”
“Still cold.”
“Still lying.” He pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. “Step out.”
She stepped free of the silk, standing in her corset and chemise, acutely aware of her vulnerability.
“The first rule,” he said, his hands settling on her corseted waist, “is that you don’t hide from me. Not your body, not your reactions, not your desires.” His fingers found the corset laces. “If something pleases you, I want to know. If something frightens you, I need to know.”
“And if something angers me?”
“Especially then.” The corset loosened with each pull. “Your anger is magnificent. I have no wish to extinguish it, only to... channel it.”
The corset fell away, leaving her in only her thin chemise and stockings. She moved to cover herself instinctively, but his hands caught her wrists.
“What did I just say about not hiding?”
“It’s instinct—”
“Then we’ll create new instincts.” He turned her to face him, his eyes dark with desire as they travelled over her. “You’re exquisite.”
“I’m half-dressed and shaking like a leaf.”
“Exactly. Exquisite.” He traced a finger along the neckline of her chemise, barely touching. “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you at the opera?”
“That I was an impertinent merchant’s daughter?”
“That you were trouble.” His finger dipped lower, still barely touching. “Beautiful, defiant trouble that would upend my carefully controlled world.”
“And yet you pursued me.”
“Pursued? No.” He smiled darkly. “I hunted you. From that first moment when you refused to look away, you became my quarry.”
“And now you’ve caught me.”
“Have I?” His hand slid up to cup her face. “Sometimes I think you’ve caught me instead. Trapped me in this need for you that threatens everything I’ve built.”
“Adrian—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “No more talking. Not yet. I want to look at you.”
