Soft gloves raked wool stockings, scraped over bare thigh, and tangled with her drawers. She gasped, but he didn’t linger; he moved until his hands settled over her corset at the waist. Spreading his fingers, he gripped, let out a slight grunt, andlifted.
Drew levitated upward in a blink. She let out a little gasp and her hands flew to his shoulders. She looked down on his upturned face.
“Up and over you go,” he said.
For a moment, she panicked, not understanding what he wanted. He was turning her—pivoting her toward him—but she could only twist so far if her legs faced—
“There’s a good girl,” he rasped, raising a knee to wedge between her ankles.
One moment she was being held aloft, bracing against his shoulders, the next he was knocking her legs apart to straddle his lap.
“Miss Trelayne,” he hissed, resettling her on his thighs. She wasastridehim now; their bodies aligned, their facesnose-to-nose. Beneath her skirts, his hands remained tight on her waist.
“Oh,” she said.
“But I wonder,” he mused, “are youmovinga bit too much? For the birds? I thought we were meant to be still. Think of their shy and abiding little bird sensibilities.”
Before she could answer, he kissed her squarely, properly. His tongue probed, deepening the kiss almost instantly, and he slid his hands from her waist to cup her bottom.
“You have the perfect little bottom,” he rumbled against her mouth. He squeezed, and she’d never been so aware of her own body, her legs spread, his nearness. She hopped, just a little, inching closer to him, and he used the movement to scoop his palms more solidly beneath her.
Somewhere, deep in the foggy corners of her consciousness, Drew had the errant, distant thought that she should look about them, to see if they were alone, but her eyes saw nothing more than the blur of autumn leaves, and golden light, and him.
“Did you know you had the perfect bottom?” he mumbled.
“Shhh,” she managed, her voice strangled.
“Oh yes, the birds,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his. “They mustn’t know about your bottom.”
“No, the people. In the park.”
“We’re of no consequence to the absent people in this vacant park,” he said, reclaiming her mouth. “We are bird-watching.”
“We are most certainly no—”
He moaned and pressed her to him. The movement ground her burning center against his hardness. He’d aligned them perfectly to collidejust so, and she gasped at the contact.
“Shhh, Miss Trelayne,” he teased. “You’re scaring the birds.”
She shimmied closer, rubbing against him with a sigh.
Lachlan broke the kiss with a growl and sucked in air. He retracted a hand from beneath her skirts and brought it to his teeth, biting off his glove. The other glove came next; and now he could dig his bare fingers into her upswept hair, slanting her head to deepen the kiss.
“Careful,” she whispered against his mouth. “I cannot be... I mustn’t...”
“Bird-watching is naughty work,” he warned.
His hands left her hair and delved inside her cloak, finding her breasts. He covered them with his palms, kneading, plucking her nipples through fine wool and silk.
“I would finish this,” he breathed against her mouth.
She made a wordless sound that was half whimper, half question.
“Well said,” he mumbled.
He fanned his hands over her breasts through the bodice of her gown. “Miss Trelayne?” he groaned.
“We couldn’t,” she said.
