He was turning her into a scandal, cupping her cheek, returning her attention to him. When she caught him staring at her breasts, which were at the perfect height for him to study at his leisure, she was glad to be one. Nothing felt so good as having this man stare at her décolletage as if he wished to devour it.
“You will not,” she whispered.
His only answer a wicked grin before he set his mouth to her skin just above the neckline on the swell of one breast, and she discovered this was better—the devouring.
She might not survive it, might not live past the way he made her feel—as if she were dying, as if she were truly alive for the first time inher life.
Everywhere he touched her, she leaned into his touch, feeling like a cat nuzzling for affection.
And when he slid her sleeve off her shoulder, she shrugged, helping him divest the strap of her stays, the sleeve of her shift as well. When he placed a hot kiss on the skin he’d uncovered, she sighed and dropped her head back. And when he slipped his hand into her bodice and cupped her breast, she bit her bottom lip to keep quiet.
“Holy hell,” he breathed, circling his thumb around her nipple. “Holy hell.” His rapt attention, the way he cursed and licked his lips. He held her breasts with both hands, squeezed and kissed them, laving his way around her nipple then sucking it into his mouth, teasing it between his teeth.
He proved her wrong with every touch, going further than she’d thought he would, and entirely sober. Not a hint of wine or brandy on his lips. On either of their lips.
This wasthem.
She wanted more. She writhed and rolled closer to him, tugging at his hair, begging without words for more. Oh heavens, she never wanted him to stop. She needed to be closer, and he somehow knew it, his hands wandering down her body and cupping her bottom, pressing her more tightly against him, lifting. She yelped, and he kissed her quiet as she scrambled to make sense of her position in the air. Her knees found the window seat, and she settled on top of him, straddling his thigh. His hard thigh. Her own thigh was nestled in the center of his body, pressed against his groin, his long, hard shaft locked between them.
A window. A curtain. Another world entirely.
Six years.Six yearsshe’d followed Lady Chattaway across the Continent tending to her needs. And six minutes to realize she had needs as well. And they were sorely unmet.
Not for long. Not as Remmy’s eyes flashed open and his hand gripped herhip. Beneath her skirts.
“You sneak,” she hissed. Her body directly contradicted her tone, rolling her hips to press her sex into his muscled leg. A moan—hers—as pleasure coalesced at her center, burning warmth throughout her body.
He squeezed his fingertips into her flesh. “You’re the sneak, hiding this bounty all these years. I can’t look at you and not touch.”
She grinded against his muscle again and moaned, knowing it was the sound of surrender. She clasped her hands behind his neck, and her thumb brushed against something hard and cool. The earring. A desire—sudden and startling—flashed through her. She wanted to taste that earring, to tug it between her teeth until he hissed in pain.
A snore from behind the curtain ripped across her consciousness.
They jolted as far apart as they could with her still on his leg, then froze, their limbs still tangled together with linen and silk and each other.
More snores. Then the creak of a chair and the shuffle of footsteps. Then silence.
But the spell broke. Before she’d made the most of it.
Made the most of it?What she’d been doing… what he’d been doing to her… It proved he was exactly what he said he was—her friend no longer. The only person who’d ever loved her now wouldn’t hesitate to ruin her.
She bolted out from behind the curtain.
When she could finally speak, she whispered, “Why?”
“Why what?” His voice a low, raw rumble as he stepped away from the window.
“Whythis? Why now? You’ve not had a drop to drink.”
“Likely because I hate myself.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I could ask you the same question. Why?”
She couldn’t explain. Didn’t understand.
“Why”—he stood and whispered hot next to her ear—“did you try to ride my leg to your climax?”
She jerked away from him. Shehaddone that. “I… I do not know.”
“You liked it.” His knuckles landed on her cheek, and she could not deny it, could not help but lean into the caress. “I think I could seduce you.”
