“May I have more whiskey?” She’d shocked him once more, and she hoped to again before the night was over.
He watched her warily, as if expecting her to do something else he hadn’t anticipated. But he dutifully stood to retrieve the whiskey bottle and poured more into her glass.
She sipped and truly savored it this time, that instant warming comfort. But it made her feel strangely giddy too. Any tiny shreds of doubt, any lingering disappointment of him refusing her proposal, melted away in the fire of her final sip.
Casting her glass aside, she stood. James came toher instantly, reaching for her arm as if fearing that the scant amount of liquor she’d consumed would make her unsteady.
Oddly, she felt steadier and more confident than she had in her entire life. Knowing exactly what she wanted gave her a heady kind of courage.
Looking up at him, she reached both arms behind her and unfastened the ribbon at the back of her gown. Then she started on the buttons, just a short row near her waist.
The gown made this all so much easier.
When she finished with the back, she raised her arms to the neckline of the dress. That’s when the temperature in the room went from warm to scorching. She could see the moment he understood. But she didn’t stop. There was no going back now.
She tugged at the straps, pulling them down her arms. She wore no corset or chemise. Nothing but this gown of satin.
James swallowed hard and took one step closer, close enough to touch.
“Lucy—”
He leaned to retrieve her cloak, and she stopped him.
“I want you to see me, and I want to be with you tonight.”
She still held her gown up, braced with one arm across her breasts. Rather than answer her, he kissed the rounded edge of one bare shoulder, then the tender spot between her shoulder and neck, then her chin.
“No woman has ever tempted me more,” he told her before taking her bottom lip gently between his teeth. “I’ve never even imagined I could want anyone the way I want you.”
“I feel the same. So please, give me tonight.”
A battle waged behind his lapis-blue eyes, but he never stopped looking at her. Never turned away. Their bodies fit together too well. Even now, standing chest to chest felt right.
She hoped he could see the longing in her eyes, see how sure she was of the choice she’d made.
Lucy waited, letting him fight his sense of propriety. She’d already overcome hers. But while she waited, she explored him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertips. The stubble there was dark and shockingly soft. She nuzzled her cheek against him, whispering in his ear, “Please, James.”
Maybe it was thepleasethat did it. Maybe it was that she kissed his neck after whispering the word.
Maybe—and her heart wanted this to be true—he couldn’t resist her any more than she could stop wanting him.
He took the final pins from her hair, running his fingers through the strands languidly, almost reverentially. “So lovely,” he murmured as he swept the fall of hair off her shoulder and drew his fingers down until they snagged the strap of her gown.
Lucy dropped her arm, letting the fabric fall from her breasts. A moment later, James fell to his knees, braced an arm at her back, and lickeda deliciously hot circle around her nipple. When she gasped, he simply smiled, his gaze on hers, and took the rosy puckered flesh into his mouth.
Unbidden, her hips bucked against him, somehow intimately connected with the wicked things he was doing with his tongue. When he released her nipple, he covered her breast with his palm, then turned his attention to her other nipple. A flick of his tongue made her want more, and he seemed to know. He offered decadent swirls of his tongue when he moved against her sensitive, peaked flesh.
She had her hands in his hair, ready to beg him not to stop, when she felt him gripping the bunched fabric at her waist. He tugged, sliding the satin over her hips, her thighs, letting it pool at her ankles.
James sat back on his haunches, his hands still on her hips, and gazed at her as if he’d just unearthed a treasure that was his alone. Then he scooted toward her, dropped his hands to her ankles and drew his fingertips up from her calves to the backs of her legs. He kissed her thighs, one and then the other, before pressing his lips to her curls.
“How did I get so lucky as to find you?” he asked, looking up at her with such awe and tenderness that Lucy had to fight back the burn of tears.
“We’re both lucky.”
He stood then, and she feared she’d said something wrong and marred the moment. But he still held her hand.
“You’re certain?”
