“I don’t . . . mean to be.”
“I know that.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, firing her blood. “I also know I have no business kissing you like this.”
“That’s true.”
“Shall I stop?”
“No,” she breathed. Oh, shedidlike to live dangerously.
With a growl, he unwrapped her scarf, then kissed down her cheek to the small amount of her neck showing between her cloak and the ribbons of her borrowed quilted bonnet. Then he kissed and tongued the hollow at her throat, turning her to mush.
“Is this why you brought me here?” She clung to his waist. “To have your wicked way with me?”
“Oh, trust me, if I’d intended that, I wouldn’t have brought you to an ice-cold manor house with no furniture.”
“Saved by the weather,” she said lightly, then pulled his head back up so she could meet his gaze. “But just for the sake of argument, howwouldyou . . . go about having your wicked way with me? Assuming we were somewhere warmer. And more comfortable. Andifyou were even to do such a roguish thing.”
Fire sparked in his eyes, so hot that she wondered if she should have spoken those impulsive words aloud. Then he shifted her so her back was against the staircase balusters.
Oh, dear. Any other woman would panic. But she knew in her bones that he was a gentleman. That she could trust him.
“First,” he said hoarsely, “I would strip all these layers of winter clothing from you . . . leaving you in your shift and naught else.”
The image he conjured up set her heart pounding in her chest. “That soundsquitewicked.”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” He pressing a lingering kiss against her temple, where her pulse beat madly. “Next, I would take down your mass of unruly curls and run them through my fingers.”
“H-How did you know my curls were ‘unruly’?”
“No matter how you pull them up and tuck them in with hairpins, they’re still going to rebel.” Lowering his voice to a bare whisper, he said, “And Ilikerebellious, unruly curls. They’re particularly appropriate for rebellious, unruly ladies.”
“I’m not rebellious and unruly,” she said stoutly. But sometimes she was, and they both knew it.
“Once I had us both aroused and eager, I would slide your shift off over your head and stand back to get a good look at you in all your naked glory.”
Her breath dried up in her throat. “Do I get to have a good look atyounaked?”
He blinked. “Do you want one?”
“Of course.”
“Yet you’re not rebellious and unrulyat all,” he teased.
She thrust out her chin. “It’s merely that I’ve never . . . seen a man undressed. It follows that I would be a little curious.”
“Just a little, eh?” He bent close to her ear. “For you, sweetheart, I’d take off every stitch of my clothing until we were naked . . . together.” His breath came fast and hot against her cheek, already warm from the blushes he was provoking. “Then I’d begin the touching.”
“The touching?” she squeaked.
He took one finger and oh so lightly ran it down her neck and then over the curve of one breast. “I’d caress your breasts with my hands and mouth until I had you swooning in my arms.”
His finger circled her nipple, making her breath come in quick gasps. She fancied she could actually feel his bare finger circling her bare nipple, though that was highly unlikely since she was fully clothed.
“And then . . .” he said, his thumb now rubbing her nipple, making her yearn for more.
When he paused, she prompted him with, “And then?” Good Lord, she was swooning in his arms already. How much more could there be?
He shoved away from her abruptly, his breath coming in hard gasps. “We should stop talking about this. Before I do something I regret.”
