“But not the rest of you.” He shifted her as he tried to untie her stays. “Let’s take this off, hmmm?”
She sat up with his help and shed the remains of her gown. Then she untied her stays and, with a sigh of relief, dropped the thing on the floor before flopping back onto his bed with her arms spread out. He could see the movement of her breasts beneath her shift and the shadow of her nipples. But more than that, he could see that she breathed with full inhales, and he heard the sweet sound of her sigh.
“Clara?”
“Hmmm?’
“You’ll have to say, stop, if you don’t like it.”
“What?”
Unable to resist touching her, he caressed her breast through the fabric of her shift. Her eyes popped open on a gasp, but a moment later, her mouth curved into a smile.
“I should stop you,” she said.
But she wasn’t going to. And while she pressed her breasts into his hand, he kissed her shoulder. Then she turned her head such that he had the full length of her neck available to his mouth, and before long, he was able to nibble her jaw before teasing up toward her lips.
“This is very wicked of us,” she said.
At least she said, “us” and not “him.”
“It’s not wicked if we both want it,” he said. Then he caught her mouth in his. He thrust his tongue between her lips and felt her stretch against him. Her mouth opened, her tongue dueled with his, and she sounded like she was humming low, like a purr while his body burned for her.
He stroked his hand down her belly then across her groin to her thigh. He wanted to pull off her shift, but she was trembling. A fine ripple that had him wondering what she was feeling. He broke off their kiss.
“Clara? What—”
“It’s nothing,” she whispered as she pulled him back to her mouth.
It definitely was something. Her whole body was shaking against him. Not violently, but with a subtle energy that surprised him.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“No.” She smiled up at him. “It’s like emotions build up inside me, and I tremble. That’s all.”
He set his hand on her belly, resting lightly so he could feel it without stopping them. “What emotion?” he asked, awed by the delicacy of her.
She bit her lip, her cheeks turning rose. “I’m feeling daring, my lord. Very daring.”
“Call me Liam.” He stroked his hand along her leg, as far down as he could reach, and then skimmed back up as he brought her shift with it. “And what do you dare?”
“I should like you to teach me something please.”
“Yes?”
“I should like to experience a quickening. I’ve heard about them, you know, but I didn’t… I haven’t…” She shrugged. “You needn’t if you don’t want to.”
He grinned at her. “I very much do.”
“I’m told I can do them by myself, but—”
“They’re not nearly as much fun that way.”
She grinned. “I knew you would know about them.”
“Of course, I do.” He nibbled along her jaw. “They were invented by the Scottish.”
“They were not!” she said, giggling in her outrage.
