Page 14 of Frankly, My Dear

Finally, blessed silence reigned, and Selene drifted off to sleep. Later, she was awakened in the quiet night by a husky moan. That was all. Just a moan. But the solitary, intimate sound tantalized her imagination.

Selene slept restlessly the remainder of the night.

She awakened in early morning to a dim light under her door and a full bladder. Unfastening the door to let in a little light, she grabbed one of James’s white shirts. With pleasure, she used the fine linen to wipe the sweat off her entire body, then threw the crumpled shirt on the floor.

She opened the door wider and peeked into the bedroom. Only a dim morning light hazed the opulent room through the heavy velvet drapes.

James slept alone. Maureen must have slipped away during the night. Probably to serve another customer, Selene thought meanly.

Selene saw a screen and figured there must be a chamber pot there. Quickly relieving herself as quietly as she could, she then poured water from a porcelain pitcher into a wide bowl and washed her hands. Despite the long gown, she felt naked and decided to don her pantyhose.

She looked into a small mirror on the wall above the wash-stand and giggled. She was still wearing her false eyelashes from yesterday’s shoot. She removed them carefully and, with the damp end of a linen towel, wiped off the mascara that had seeped under her eyes.

Then, having procrastinated long enough, she made her way toward the bed where James still slept. He lay on his stomach, his lean body exposed from head to waist and thigh to toes, a thin sheet barely covering his buttocks.

“James,” she said softly, trying hard not to stare at the wide shoulders and muscled planes of his well-defined back. And, Lord, the man had nice toes—long and slender and somehow vulnerable looking. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. You’re losin’ it, girl, when you start getting turned on by a man’s toes.

“James, it’s time to wake up,” she said somewhat louder and almost groaned at the sight of both sinewy arms thrown over his head, as if in abandon. His face was turned toward her, and she could see the dark shadow of his morning beard and his incredibly long lashes, which lay like lacy fans against his tanned skin. In sleep, the bitter lines melted away from his forehead and eyes and mouth. Selene fought the impulse to run her fingertips along his proud jaw, to test the hardness of his muscled biceps, to taste the vulnerable crease behind his knees.

His knees! Criminey! First his toes, now his knees. Get a hold on yourself, girl.

“James, get up!” she said loudly.

His body jerked, but he didn’t raise his head. Instead, his arm shot out with lightning speed and pulled her down to the bed. Then he flipped her onto her back on the other side of him, burying his face in her neck as he adjusted his body atop hers.

“Maureen, what’re you doing out of bed? It’s early yet, chérie,” he mumbled, still half asleep.

Maureen! He thinks I’m Maureen. Selene tried to buck him off, and only succeeded in having the brute chuckle and shift his body so he lay more fully atop her.

It was then Selene realized that her bodice had slipped, exposing her breasts, and her blasted gown had twisted up to her waist, exposing about three feet of bare leg. She moaned.

“You like that, do you, sweetheart?” he growled, misinterpreting her sound as he moved his crisp chest hairs back and forth across her now erect nipples. He did it one more time for good measure, and she felt her breasts engorge and ache.

Selene inhaled sharply with disbelief, scrunching her eyes closed tightly. She’d never in all her life felt anything so wonderful.

She immediately amended that thought when his lips covered her left breast. The tip of his tongue created a circle of fire around her nipple before he flicked it several times, then began to suckle in earnest.

Selene bit her bottom lip to stifle her cry of intense pleasure. And parts of her she’d never known were frozen began to melt.

She looked down and saw that his eyes were still closed, even as he moved to the other breast and ministered to it with equal, exquisite care.

Involuntarily, her legs parted more to accommodate him where his nakedness pressed against her. Sensuously she rubbed a stocking-clad calf against the coarse hair of his bare leg. One of his hands reached down and skimmed the edge of her leg, starting at the ankle, moving enticingly up the outside over the calf, past the knee and up the thigh. And two zillion long-dead nerve endings jump-started to attention.

“Ummm, Maureen, how wicked of you to wear silk stockings to bed,” he murmured appreciatively.

Selene stiffened at the reminder that James thought he was with another woman.

At that moment, his hand moved higher, hesitated, then seemed to explore jerkily.

Selene realized almost instantly what the problem was. She wore waist-high pantyhose—something that hadn’t been invented yet.

His shoulders pulled back and his eyes flew open to glare at her. “You’re not Maureen.”

“No kidding, Dick Tracy.”

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” he demanded angrily. He blinked his sleepy eyes several times in stunned surprise. “Seduction will get you nowhere, wench. Get that idea from your head.”

“Seduction!” she shrieked and tried to buck him off.