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The request ignited a rush of anticipatory shivers.

“That is”—his low voice rumbled in his chest—“if you want me to lie down beside you.”

She smoothed her fingers down the fabric of her skirt before she slowly edged toward the wall.

The blanket beneath her was surprisingly smooth, comfortable, and of higher quality than she might have expected, had she given the matter much thought.

Which she should have.

Her intention when she’d blackmailed him had been for them to end up in this exact spot, in this specific room. In her dreams, he approached her with a piercing gaze, with movements fluid, deliberate, desire-drenched that filled her with anticipation.

Those dreams, he’d fulfilled.

Presently, he reclined by her side. They were leg to leg and hip to hip as he propped himself up on his elbow. His relaxed posture suggested an increased confidence, confidence she wanted to enjoy. Chin down, his angled gaze moved up and down her body if consuming a visual feast.

Then, his hungry eyes, dark with a widened center, lingered, still and intent, on her chest. His breath shortened, but he did not move.

“Yes?” she finally prompted.

He blinked as if he’d forgotten she could talk. “If I tilt my head just so, I’m rewarded with generous hints of your tantalizing breasts.”

Was breast-staring part of ravishment? “Is that good?”

He nodded hypnotically. “Captivating.”

“Well,” she shrugged a shoulder, “at least one of us is diverted.”

“One?” His eyes flicked to her face, expression bemused. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss their usefulness to you.”

“I’ve had them for quite some time, you know. So far, they’ve been of little use.”

“May I?” His hand hovered over her neckline.

“If it suits you.”

Gently, he loosened her drawstring bodice, revealing her half-stays. If she’d been standing, the jump would have created a pleasing line beneath her dress, but, reclined as she was, the cups were lax. Lax enough to expose the chemise she wore beneath.

He teased one nipple out from beneath the layers. She still could not understand the fuss. Then he fondled the pebbled peak. She clenched somewhere deep within and then arched her back as her body flooded with warmth.

“Is that good?” he repeated her question with a different emphasis.

“Remarkably.” She closed her eyes. “Makes me feel tingly...everywhere.”

“Me, too.” He said with a low, sensual laugh. “Tingly,” he repeated. “And heady. And tight. And hard.

Hard she already suspected, but she loved that he was as tuned to her as she was to him.

“Looking at your breasts is good,” he continued. “Watching your body reply to just a whisper of my touch...” He smacked his lips together as if he’d just tasted something sweet.

“Tight and hard both sound uncomfortable.”

He inclined his head as he gave a little shrug—the picture of knowing forbearance. “Unpleasantness before makes the subsequent relief satisfying.”

“Unpleasantness,” she considered. “Like feeling needy and uncomfortable?”

“Do you feel needy and uncomfortable?”

“Yes.” She brought her hand up to her other breast. She drew her bodice farther down. “And reckless. And wanton.”