Mira blinked. “That sounds wicked.”
“Everything that’s worthwhile is.” He grinned, willing her to see the rightness in his suggestion.
Some men took their pleasure and did not give a damn if the women in their bed ever received theirs. Demon Winter was not that sort of arsehole. And he meant to prove it to her, one delicious deed at a time.
“Oh. That could be true. When you say it, I believe it.”
Her words struck him. Here was the true Mira, beneath her layers of polish. He had found his way to her.
“Welcome to my wicked world, Mira.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Stay as long as you like.”
* * *
If ever shehad heard an inducement to debauchery, this was it. The words which had just been uttered by Damian’s seductive lips. And the trouble was, she wanted to remain in his wicked world. A part of her wanted to stay forever.
But the practical part of her remained, reminding her she could not. What shecoulddo was spend the next few hours here with him. Learning pleasure. Learning herself. Allowing him to do what he would with her.
And had she not already agreed to that when she had entwined her fingers in his and allowed him to lead her here, to his private apartments above Lady Fortune? Of course she had. But she had been so filled with reckless longing that she had not thought about the ramifications until his words had reminded her of just how unskilled she was. Just how unprepared to be this man’s lover.
He was gazing down at her now, so earnestly. Awaiting her answer.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His grin deepened as he pulled her hands from his shoulders, giving her kid gloves a playful tug. “Let us begin with these. May I?”
He wanted to remove them, she realized, and she wished them gone as well. Mirabel nodded. “Of course.”
He surprised her by lifting her right hand to his lips, then catching the tip of her glove’s forefinger in his teeth and tugging. The glove slid from her hand. He let it drop to the floor before performing the same ministration to the left glove as well.
She could do nothing but watch as he lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing the knuckles of each one. First her right hand, then her left.
“Do you like this?”
Did he need to ask?
“Yes,” she managed.
“Good.” He kissed her inner wrist, inhaling as he did so. “I have my answer.”
She was flustered. And breathless. All from the attention he had paid her hands, for heaven’s sake. “What answer?”
“I wondered whether or not you apply your scent here.” He cast her a smile and kissed again. “And you do.”
He had wondered? He had noticed her scent?
“Oh,” was all she could think to say.
Foolish and silly. She sounded like a hen wit, and she felt like one too.
“Let us discover what else you like, my lady.”
“When you called me Mira earlier,” she confessed before she could think better of it.
“You liked that?”
She nodded.
“Tell me more about what you like, Mira. What else do you enjoy?” As he spoke, he was busy. His fingers were working the closures on the back of her gown.
