“Hush.” She rested her fingers against his lips for a moment, then she loosened the knot on his cravat, unwound it from around his neck, and dropped it to the floor next to her shirt. His waistcoat followed, then she sat back on her heels, studied him, and shook her head. “No.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “No?”
“I’ve never seen a gentleman in only his shirtsleeves, and it’s quite…that is, you’re very…well, I like it.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to the expanse of skin left bare by his shirt, making his breath catch. “But I want you to take it off.”
Finn hesitated. If he took his shirt off, he was one step closer to taking his breeches off, and once they were off, he’d take her. He was painfully aroused after watching her come, and every one of his masculine urges was demanding he make her his.
But not here, in Lady Hadley’s sitting room. He wanted her safe behind his locked bedchamber door, naked on his bed, her hair spread across his pillow, both of them free to give voice to their pleasure without fear of being overheard. He wasn’t looking forward to staggering up the stairs with a raging erection, but there would be no hurrying, and no half measures in this.
Not in anything. Not with her.
“Not here, sweet.” He scooped his waistcoat and cravat off the floor, then fetched his coat from the end of the sofa. She’d struggled back into her shirt and was attempting to straighten her skirts, but there was no hiding her flushed skin, her swollen lips or the mass of tangled curls tumbling over her shoulders. She looked like just what she was—a woman who’d just come to a trembling, shattering release in the arms of her lover.
My arms.
He draped his coat over her shoulders, grinning as it engulfed her. “You could wear it as a gown.”
She smiled up at him. “Does it suit me?”
“Everything suits you.”
He couldn’t resist cradling her face in his hands so he could kiss her again. He brushed his lips over her forehead—surely that was safe enough—and took just the briefest of moments to bury his face in her hair. He was a grown man, after all. He could control himself, and…dear God, she smelled good, especially the sensitive skin behind her ear. He could go mad from the warm silk of her skin under his lips, the flutter of her pulse against his tongue, her quiet moan when he bit down gently on her earlobe…
“Finn.” Her arms stole around his neck, and then his mouth was crushed against hers, his tongue hot and demanding as he surged inside, and he was wild to be inside her everywhere, her damp heat enveloping him, pulling him deeper—
But not here.
He tore his mouth from hers with a pained groan. “Upstairs, sweet. My bedchamber.”
He took her hand in his and led her to the door. He paused before leading her into the hallway, but it was late. The house was dark and silent. They stole up the stairs and slipped into his bedchamber without encountering a soul.
Finn turned the lock and leaned back against the door, watching her. He could still take her back to her bedchamber, drop a chaste kiss on her cheek, and vow to himself he wouldn’t touch her again until they were wed. He was an honorable gentleman, after all.
Most of the time.
She slid his coat from her shoulders, dragged her shirt over her head, climbed onto his bed, and leaned back against the pillows. Her rosy nipples were hard, and a wicked half-smile curled her lips as she beckoned to him with her fingers.
This isn’t one of those times.
He tossed the clothes in his hand aside, kicked off his boots, and dragged his shirt over his head, a needy growl rising from his chest as he stalked toward the bed. The flickering light from the fire fell over her face, revealing her gaze as it moved over every inch of him—his shoulders, the bare skin of his chest and stomach, lingering on the trail of dark hair that started just under his belly button and vanished into the waistband of his breeches.
She swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as her gaze moved over the bulge of his stiff cock pressed against the front of his breeches.
Finn groaned as his cock twitched. “I like it when you look at me.”
“I, ah…I see that.”
A faint grin crossed his lips, then he placed one knee in the middle of the bed and reached for her. “Give me your hand.”
She scrambled across the bed and offered her hand. He drew it toward him, and pressed her palm flat against the front of his breeches.
Both of them gasped when her fingers instinctively wrapped around his hard length.
“Touch me, sweet. Like this.” Finn moved her hand in a slow, steady caress from his base to his tip.
She was hesitant at first, careful, but after a moment her fingers tightened around him, her eyes widening when a helpless groan tore from his lips at her rougher strokes. “Is that…am I hurting you?”
“God, no. You’re driving me mad.” Another low moan slipped past his lips as she continued to tease her hand over his aching cock. She seemed to know just what he wanted, her fingers lingering at his tip until his hips were jerking to increase the friction of her hand against him.
