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Yasmin stepped forward into his arms and pressed her lips to his chin. To the right of his lips. To the left of his lips.

A sound escaped his mouth, hardly more than a sigh. She kissed the sound, the echo of longing that she felt in the strong hands curving around her back. His mouth opened and then they were clinging together as arousal roared through her limbs.

She pulled away to breathe, hearing words tumble from Giles’s lips, raw and hoarse, telling her that he was on fire, that her breasts were . . . She let the sound of his voice sink into her skin, leaving the meaning to the side.

Giles loved it when she showed desire for him. She just had to believe him.

She took one step back, bringing him with her. And then another step and another, until she pulled him down to the bed on top of her.

He caught himself just as he was about to sprawl on top of her, pushed himself up on his arms, and asked, “Yasmin?”

“Why am I sometimes Mina and sometimes Yasmin?” she asked, smiling at him. A thick lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she pushed it back.

“Mina when I have no control. The moment I saw you in this gown, I felt like a wild man.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” She beamed at him.

“Nice? It’s designed to make a man fall on his knees and beg.” His thumb rubbed along her jaw. “I’ve spent my life avoiding the kind of strong emotions that drove my parents, but here I am on my knees. So to speak.”

She blinked at him, suddenly getting it. He was a box she wanted to pry open, a castle whose parapet she wanted to scale . . . When he called her Mina, she was inside the walls.

“I want to make love,” she whispered, after more kisses. He’d been calling her Mina.

Giles’s eyes glowed with a deep happiness. “May I have permission to ravish you?” he asked, his tone oddly formal.

“As long as there’s no condom involved,” Yasmin specified.

His brows drew together. “We might conceive a child.”

“I like babies. I do not like that chicken skin thing with a ribbon.”

After that, it seemed a minute until her new gown was off, and her corset and chemise had disappeared as well. Giles unwrapped her as if she were the most precious gift he’d ever been given, and all the time he talked. Apparently, she, Mina, was a peach that he wanted to eat every day of his life.

Yasmin lay on the bed smiling, because the man who rarely spoke was throwing out compliments as if he couldn’t stop. His words, and his voice, were the most delightful things she’d heard. Ever.

When Giles undressed?

Wrenched off his boots, pulled down his breeches and smalls, throwing them on a chair with his crumpled shirt? He was more heavy boned and muscled than she had imagined. When he turned around, his rear . . .

Was she supposed to think a man’s arse was beautiful? Likely not. She wasn’t sure. Probably not. But her eyes gobbled up his rounded muscled globes and the little hollows on the sides.

From the front he was so much more than any erotic drawing she’d seen that she closed her eyes for a moment. His cock stood up proudly, and without that wrinkled condom covering it, she thought she’d like to touch him.

So she did.

Giles sucked in a breath and then eased onto the bed, knees on either side of her. Her hand slipped away and circled his neck because he was kissing her again, deep and sweet.

“Are you going to lie on top of me now?” she asked.

“I want to taste you first.”

Her heart was already beating quickly, but at that it started hammering. Her legs were trembling too, but before she had time to think about it, he slid down her body.

“Did we latch the door?” she asked suddenly.

He kissed her inner thigh. “We did.”

“You don’t suppose anyone is upstairs?”