She looked at him, hard. Beth said not to trust him. She should sever their ties for his sake as well as hers. Only she didn’t want to. She had done nothing wrong, and was tired of being a slave to the fear that no one would believe that.
She swallowed hard. “I think you should kiss me now.”
He pressed his lips to hers so fast that the last words came out muffled. And with that connection the dam that had been barely holding back her want of him sank out of sight.
He turned to her and took her face in his hands and showered her mouth and face with kisses, some careful, others less so. His quick passion said he had not been nearly as blasé the last half hour as he had appeared.
He embraced her and kissed her neck, her shoulder, the bit of skin visible above her pelisse. She knew these pleasures and relinquished herself to them. She enjoyed the sly titillations perking in her blood, and the joyous freedom the sensations gave her.
Even while they kissed he managed to shake off his coats. She felt his body then, strong and hard beneath his shirt. His cravat disappeared and she ventured a small kiss on his neck. He held her there, asking for more, while his hand went to the buttons on her pelisse.
She looked down at that hand, then around the chamber. “Do you think to do this here?”
Calmer kisses. Soothing ones. “Not unless you want to.”
The carpet, while expensive and thick, did not appear very comfortable. “I do not think it wise.”
One deep look in her eyes, and he lifted her by the hand. “Come with me.”
He did not lead her far. His chambers spread over one floor of a house, so his bedchamber could be found nearby. They passed a back stairs and went a little farther. He opened a door, then released her hand while he turned and worked the latch.
It was a nice chamber. Masculine. Large enough but not excessive. Just right for one person, she thought. A little old in style, with dark wood panels coming up half the walls and also forming the bed. Shadows tried to rise in her memory when she looked at that bed, but she filled her gaze and thoughts with other things.
Simple white drapes framed the windows and bedposts. None of it surprised her. It looked like him. He would not concern himself much with fashion. His garments were current, but his haberdasher probably claimed credit.
He closed another door. She saw beyond it enough to know it was his dressing room.
“Do you want me to undress?” she asked.
“Just stay there.” He took a key off his writing table and locked the dressing room. Then he stripped off his cravat.
They faced each other across the chamber. The bed loomed. The one lamp’s glow turned the white drapes golden. Her heart rose to her throat. He appeared so handsome there, with the low light flattering his face and form. Strong and deliciously masculine.
“Now you can undress.”
While he watched, apparently.
She had worn a pelisse dress with little buttons down the front. She worked at them, wondering if buried desire had made her choose such a convenient garment. It took a long time to finish with the closures, due to her fingers trembling. Finally she let the dress slip off her shoulders and down her body. His gaze followed its descent, then slowly rose back up.
She went to work on her undergarments. The longer it took, the more nervous she became and the more clumsy her actions. He enjoyed it, she realized. That made her slow enough that her disrobing might appear more elegant. She also discovered a pleasant sensuality in revealing herself like this, layer by layer.
Down to her chemise and hose, she bent to untie the latter.
“I would prefer if you saved those for last.”
That meant becoming naked before she was done. Blatantly so, and not while in bed or even being embraced. She steeled her courage and let the chemise drop.
She looked at him, so he might think her braver than she felt. Desire had tightened his expression and fired his eyes. His gaze captured hers and a thrill spun down her body. Then another. Like rockets, each one created an explosion of arousal that sent exciting sensations raining down.
He glanced down, reminding her of the hose. She stepped over to a chair to prop up her foot, untied one, and rolled it down. The implications of her pose, of her raised leg, stirred her deeply. While she set her foot down and raised the other one she noticed he had moved slightly to where he could view her exposure better.
So aroused that she could barely stand, she untied the other stocking and began removing it. Suddenly he was there, on one knee, right in front of her. He moved her foot to his other bent knee, and his hands to the roll of the stocking.
She looked down at his strong hands slowly moving the stocking down to her knee. His head dipped and he kissed her inner thigh. High up. Then another, higher yet. So high she felt his breath on her mound like a feathering tease.
She dared not close her eyes because she feared she might stagger or fall. So she watched his crown and his hands, and felt his kisses and came close to forgetting how to breathe herself. The kisses did not stop, but somehow the stocking was gone. Still he knelt there, caressing her leg too. Then he stroked high, and slid his hand between her thighs, into the dampness and heat he had caused. One deep, secret touch and the chamber spun. She had to hold his shoulders to keep her balance while he pushed her arousal higher and higher.
Kisses on her stomach, her hips. Caresses on her bottom, then sliding deeply forward. Maddened now, she fumbled with his shirt until she could push it down his shoulders and feel his skin. He removed it somehow, never pausing in what he was doing to her.
