“I’d like it a great deal better if you’d let me touch you.”
“Oh.”
“And if you kissed me. Or let me kiss you.”
His expressionless face. The one he had when he considered all possible moves on the board.
“Please, George.”
“I wanted this to be about you, Phee.”
“How is that coupling?”
He frowned. She turned on her side toward him and brought her hand up to his head. “Let’s think of this as like chess.” She ran her fingers over his scalp.
“Unhh.” His head tilted slightly toward her hand.
“If you make all the moves and I can’t make any, then there’s no game.”
“That’s true.” His mouth hung open a tiny bit, his stern look softened.
“And besides . . .” She bit her lip. Should she tell him this? “I think your excitement makes me excited. Otherwise, it’s rather selfish, isn’t it? And I like your excitement. I mean, I like the other things, too, but I like knowing you want me.”
“Oh, Phee.” He kissed her then. A deep kiss, his tongue in her mouth, fierce and wild, the bulge in his trousers pushing at her hip.
“Yes,” she gasped when he was done. “Yes. Yes, that’s it.”
His mouth covered hers again and his hand clutched at her breasts, kneading them now, first the right and now—ouch—the left.
He pulled away from her. He was panting. “What’s wrong? I thought this is what you wanted.”
“Yes, yes.” She put her arms around his neck and tried to pull him down to her mouth again, but he resisted.
“You winced, Phee.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. What’s wrong?”
She sat up. “I’ll show you.” She pulled her chemise off over her head and raised her left arm and twisted her body toward him. “See? It’s just a little tender here.” She pointed to the vertical welts on the side of her left breast.
George’s eyes widened and he sat up, too. Words roared out of him. “Who did this to you? Are these Thornwick’s marks? Did he whip you? I’ll murder the villain!”
What?“No! Of course not. Arthur hasn’t even touched me that way. I’m not even sure he— And why would he whip my breast?”
George didn’t answer. He was trembling all over. There was something in his eyes she had never seen before. She needed to reassure him. Her friend, her protector.
“It’s from my archery. My bowstring. I’ve told you before about how it thumps me. I practiced for ages yesterday, that’s all.” George’s ragged breathing gradually calmed. His clenched fists relaxed.
“And now, please, let me touch you. Please, please.” She put her hands on his chest and dragged them down his torso to his lap. “Show me what to do.”
“Phee.” He groaned. “What is your obsession with touching my cock? You’re driving me mad.”
She rubbed him through his trousers. “I am? Good.”
He was sweating now, grinding his teeth, eyes closed. “I’m going to lose control.”
“Yes, please. I don’t want you to have any control. I want you to show me what to do to make you lose control.”
