Her eyes met his. Clear. Honest. “No, Hugh. I do not shiver.”
“Oh.”
His hands dropp–
“I burn,” she said softly. “Like Hellenic fire. Uncontrollable and unceasing, and however much I endeavour to quench it, the flame returns at your touch. It feels…that if I allow it freedom, it may burn me whole.”
Hugh growled low. “Then, Amelia Lambert, let us scorch our bodies with the flame that sears between us. Set the Thames ablaze and reduce this whole damn world to ash.”
So to light the touchpaper, he kissed her. Not tenderly, or softly, or hesitantly but with all the pent-up passion that seethed within, that had gathered and raged since Amelia had sat so demurely in his study, a rose-scented enigma with amber eyes, a blade at her thigh and pins of poison in her hair.
And at last, he knew by her avid kiss and exploring hands that he wasn’t alone on this path of desire, that there was no need for pretence or tales or lies.
He walked her backwards, a base need to feel her crushed against him as his lips slid down her throat, the fragrance of her skin igniting his every sense. A gasp as her back met the wall, tugging fingers within his hair, the tussle of hips, her satin bodice hindering his need for her naked skin.
Lips met again, tongues clashing and hands clasping. His mouth hunted, soft skin and the swell of her luscious breasts. He dipped to them, teeth grazing over lace then satin and the firm crest beneath.
She cried out his name.
And he could wait no more.
Knew it had to be now.
He shoved a knee between her legs so she rode his thigh, kissed her rosy lips and commenced yanking at satin and petticoats, skin afire and loins hard as the devil’s nagnails.
“Hugh…”
“Forgive me, Amelia,” he snarled. “I have to… Hell, I need you. Now. Here.”
His hand skimmed her thigh, higher, found such welcoming heat and he ground his palm against her.
She bucked and cried out, so ready for him; his hand rushed to his falls and–
“H-here?” came a faint gasp.
He wrenched his head up.
Amelia’s eyes were glazed but with a smidge of…concern?
“Talk to me,” he rumbled. “Or by hell or high water, I will be inside you within a moment.”
She gulped as he lifted her by the rump, nudged his hips against her so she’d know he spoke the truth.
No answer so he commenced on the buttons of his falls once mo–
“I… I’m not exactly experienced,” she blurted.
Hugh paused at the third button. “How not experienced?”
“N-not at all.”
A long, slow breath and he removed his hand to place it at her chin, searching her eyes. “Never tell me you are an innocent?”
“Is t-that rhetorical?”
Beef-witted, clod-skulled, thoughtless addlepate.
How could he have not even considered that?
