“I . . . really cannot . . . That is, it would not be . . . appropriate for me to . . .”
Her words died in her throat. He had stepped closer. That put her nose at most six inches from his chest.
“Come now, Eva. If it was appropriate for you to enter the house, and appropriate for you to watch me wash—”
“I did not watch you wash!”
“Correction. Watch me dress. Even so, after that you can hardly quibble about your setting foot inside to advise on drapery.”
She was mortified that he realized she had seen him before he dressed, incomplete though the dressing had been. She should pretend she had not, and react with anger. Only at the moment, try as she might to summon shock and indignation, she instead found herself making heroic efforts not to stare at his naked chest which, it seemed to her, all but begged for very close study indeed.
She forced her gaze over his right shoulder, then his left, then to the ground—anywhere except the handsome face and the knowing half smile of private amusement. That chest kept looming in her view, however, drawing her glances like a magnet draws iron shavings. She noted how taut the skin looked and how hard, and the tight lines as it tapered to his trousers. She wondered what it felt like...
She sneaked a glance at his face. He was watching her watch. His expression appeared intense, serious, and as wicked as the sisters Neville had warned.
She looked down, feeling her face heat. “I should go... I must go.”
A hand on her chin turned her face. “Do not be embarrassed. It is normal to be curious. The only shame is if all themustsandshouldsdrown out thewantsthat we hear inside ourselves.”
She smelled the soap he had just washed with. She pictured him standing in the dressing room not long ago. Her mind filled with that image, and the sensation of his hand on her face and the shocking way she yearned to press her fingertips against his body, to discover more and to perhaps feel if his blood thrummed like hers was doing now.
He tipped up her chin so she looked in his eyes. Dark eyes, endlessly deep and full of life and experience and thoughts of only her.
His thumb caressed her lips. They trembled and pulsed from the connection, and the sensation entered her blood. That felt so good. Terribly, wonderfully good.
He angled his head and kissed her mouth. Gently at first, but almost immediately it became a ravishment. It was as if one small breach meant the whole wall fell.
Oh, what a kiss it was. She let herself enjoy it while she inhaled the scent of him. She allowed thewantsto have their way, and to respond to his wants in kind. She did nothing to end the kiss because she did not want it to end. Five years of duty disappeared, and she was a girl again, rediscovering the taste of forbidden fruit.
She did not object when he embraced her. She felt no shock at finding her body pressed against him so that she felt his skin through her garments and his warmth all around her. He deepened the kiss, calling forth chaotic wonderment and daring.Pleasures cascaded through her body until she lost all sense of propriety.
She ventured her own embrace. The sensation of his skin beneath her palms entranced her. She pressed her fingertips against the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. That very small aggression emboldened him. He tightened his embrace in return and seduced her lips apart so his kiss could become invasive.
More astonishment, at how she reveled in the way his size and strength dominated her. Her sensuality, dormant for so long, too long, raged now, as if this physical contact fanned its flames.
His forehead pressed hers. He gazed down at his hand while his fingers trailed over her neck and along the top of her dress. “You surprise me, Eva.”
“Do you want me to push you away and storm off indignant?”
“Hell, no. Not unless you want me to die. Come here.” He drew her to a bench set against the house’s bricks and pulled her onto his lap. His finger splayed over her crown to hold her head to a fevered, demanding kiss. The pleasure began again, as if there had been no pause.
His head bent and he kissed her neck, and the skin exposed by her bodice. Thrills started shooting deep and low until she wanted to squirm. Caresses, firm and knowing, made it worse. A touch on her breast, light as a feather, made her gasp. Others, less light, had her head swimming.
That felt too good. Wickedly so. Much better than the vague arousals caused by the few embraces with Charles, when her breasts pressed his chest enough to stir her. Gareth’s caresses proved deliberately provocative. She knew, even as she succumbed, that his goal was to master her will.
She did not care. Didnot care. All theshouldslined up, and her desire kicked them away. She wanted this, her body did as did her soul, but mostly the part of her that controlled all of her senses demanded it.
He unbuttoned her pelisse and slid it off so masterfully she barely noticed. The fastenings on her dress loosened under his caress on her back. That same hand gently eased the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms while his other hand continued distracting her by fondling her breasts.
When the fabric of her chemise moved, however, she started in shock. Reality forced itself into her awareness. The most gentle kiss on her cheek urged her to be calm.
“I want to see how lovely you are, Eva. And I want you to know the best pleasure. You will allow it now.”
She did not agree, nor did she object. She did allow it, as he commanded. Aghast at how the promise of pleasure swayed her, she watched him push the chemise off her shoulders until her breasts rose high and bare above the garments bunched at her waist.
“Perfect,” he muttered, dipping his head to kiss one, then the other. “You are beautiful, Eva.”
The flattery poked at her better sense. A poignant ache shot through her, as she acknowledged that just perhaps, maybe, she was being a fool. But then his fingertips started playing at her bare nipples, and she thought about nothing at all.
