“You’re not what?”
“I’m not anything,” Sophie all but whispered.
Maddie raised one hand and curved it against Sophie’s cheek. “That’s not true,” she murmured.
“You can’t tell me I’m beautiful,” Sophie warned. “You promised never to lie to me.”
Maddie leaned forward. Her voice was low and firm with no room for misunderstanding. “You gladden the eye. It’s something better than beauty. There is something in the way you move, in your expression, that draws people in.” She pressed one steady hand to her chest. “I feel it here, every time, like a hook. You pull at me.”
Sophie hadn’t let herself dream of declarations of love from Maddie Crewe. But she found herself utterly conquered by this simplest of phrases:You pull at me.
Her wondering eyes took in everything. The candlelight faint on Maddie’s skin and a gold halo on her hair, the way the rain had spattered the yellow silk with drops of darker amber. The true and steady light in Maddie’s eyes.
Maddie slipped one shoulder free of the silk. Sophie’s eyes snagged there, ravenous for the sight. The linen of her chemise was as fine as any Sophie had ever seen: light and airy and all but translucent where the rain had dampened it. Maddie peeled the bodice down to her waist—and then rose and stepped back. She was all cream and silver from the waist up and billowing gold below.
Sophie smothered a groan. “Where on earth did you come by so fine a gown?”
Maddie grinned, her arms buried in the fallen bodice fabric. “Mr. Samson found it in London—he’s been supplying us with items for Mrs. Money’s mourning wardrobe, as well.” She slid one hand along her hip, smoothing down the fabric and making Sophie sigh at the curve it outlined. “I like to imagine this one belonged to a scandalous young widow who wanted bright colors as soon as she was out of mourning—she’s got control of her late husband’s fortune and has gone in search of debauchery.”
Sophie’s skin felt tight and hot; she squirmed in the heat of the blankets. “Does she have a partner in mind for these debauches?”
“Oh yes.” Maddie pushed the dress off her hips so it pooled on the floor with a hiss of sliding silk.
Sophie felt that sound in every fiber of her being.
Maddie gathered the gown up and put it away. She strode back across the room and presented her back to Sophie. Ribbons climbed up her back. “These stays are new and a bit stiff—would you help me?”
Sophie’s fingers fumbled with the laces. This garment was far more fashionable than the soft stays Maddie usually wore. The cotton had the telltale gloss of sateen, and tiny silver stitches dotted it like stars. “Who is the widow looking for?” she whispered with a voice gone bone-dry.
Maddie cast a temptress’s smile over one creamy shoulder. “There is a brilliant young woman—a pianist—that the widow met at a dinner party. She was soft-spoken so everyone thought her shy. But then she began to play. And all the widow could think about was her hands. How they’d feel, where they’d stroke and caress and pinch.”
Sophie’s fingers shook as they untied the last ribbon.
Stays loosened, Maddie let the garment fall to the floor like a shed cocoon. She turned, the chemise an insufficient veil against the keenness of Sophie’s sight. Slowly Maddie pulled the garment up by the hem and tossed it aside. And there she stood, better and more beautiful than all of Sophie’s frequent and fevered imaginings. A creature of flesh and flame and desire, long legs and rounded hips and lovely breasts—but other places, too, that Sophie yearned to know more intimately. The dimple in her knee. The tender skin of her wrist, and the long muscles of her forearm. The dip where her throat met her collarbone, and where one last raindrop still lingered, waiting for Sophie to lick it away.
When Sophie’s eyes reached her face again, Maddie actually trembled. As though she’d felt that gaze like a touch.
Sophie lifted a hand and beckoned Maddie closer. “Let me tell you a secret about that pianist. One your scandalous widow doesn’t suspect.”
Maddie’s lips parted on a breath of surprise and sharp delight. She walked over, step by teasing step, until she stood by the side of the bed. She bent and tilted Sophie’s chin up with a brush of her fingertips, her lips hovering a bare inch away from kissing.
Sophie went up on her knees on the bed. One hand curled possessively around Maddie’s hip. “She’s very gifted with her hands—but she’s even better with her mouth.”
She stretched up for a kiss and swallowed Maddie’s gasp. It turned into a moan halfway through, as Sophie pulled her close. Chill skin met Sophie’s blanket-warmed body, sending the most delightful shudder through both of them. Sophie skated her mouth down to suck at one pearled nipple, then kissed a trail down the tender expanse of Maddie’s stomach. Maddie spread her thighs wide as Sophie bent to slide two insistent fingers into the soft curls between her legs.
She stretched out low and kissed Maddie there, where she was hottest and sweetest.
God, but she was delicious, rain and salt and honey. Sophie licked and sucked and hummed with pleasure, until Maddie was shaking and panting and on the verge of release.
Then Sophie raised her head and pulled Maddie down into the bed with her.
For a moment they were a tangle of limbs and movement, two bodies tumbling and inseparable. Sophie spun Maddie beneath her, breathing hard. She couldn’t keep the smugness from her voice when she asked, “Is this debauched enough for you, madam?”
Maddie’s laugh was thready, almost a plea. “Nearly,” she said. “So very nearly.”
Sophie grinned hungrily and redoubled her efforts. She was going to use every musician’s trick she had to ruin Madeleine Crewe for anybody else, ever again.
Composers often wrote tempo suggestions between the staves of sheet music, prompts to the performer about how fast or how slow their fingers should fly at every stage. The language of Maddie’s moans and sighs likewise gave Sophie sensuous cues to follow.Andantewas a deep kiss, long savored, Maddie’s mouth opening wide as summer roses beneath hers.Accelerandoas Sophie’s pulse and her hands sped up, two sets of legs twining together, Sophie’s tongue curling around one delectable nipple.Allegretto, then faster to a drivingallegro, as her fingers stoked the heat between Maddie’s wanton thighs. Maddie groaned encouragement and Sophie shifted down to lick—presto—just above where her fingers plunged.
