Evan’s brows rose. “Really?” He sounded gleeful.
She frowned but was prepared to handle whatever he threw at her. Her husband did not deserve disparagement.
“Remove your shoes and stockings, please.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Definitely gleeful, mayhap even gloating, the dreadful man.
She huffed. “You’ll need to turn around, my lord.”
“Hmm. I think not. Remove your shoes and stockings in front of me.”
Gritting her teeth, she weighed her options. He’d already seen her legs earlier. She toed off her slippers, ran her hands under her skirts, and managed to roll down her stockings without baring her knees.Take that, my lord.
Evan grinned, slipping his own off and wiggling his toes.
How could a man’s feet be provocative? But his were long and slender with a bit of golden hair on his big toes. She stared at them, fascinated.
“Thank you. Your turn. Truth, please.” His words brought her attention back to his face.
Oh. Darn. Asking about his second investment was weak. His net worth—too crass. Family. “Tell me about your family.”
He sobered. Pondered.
Ooohh. He seemed to be considering a dare, she needed to think quickly. She wasn’t quite ready to invite him to shed clothing. Nor did she enjoy over-imbibing, so a drink was out. One piece of advice on her store expansion. Yes.
“My parents were a love match. My father died while I was on my Grand Tour after university, and I returned home to take over the earldom. I am an only child, although I have a cousin close to my age on my father’s side. My mother lives in the dower house here and is the only family I like to think about. That cousin grew up to be odious.”
The recitation of facts was not what she had been looking for, but it did answer her question.
She was still filing that information away when he asked again, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth, please.”
His smile looked far too self-satisfied for her peace of mind. “Say something sexual to me.”
“I beg your pardon?” Was she going to answer that to every one of his requests? Or would she eventually become immune to shock?
He smiled. “Here, I’ll help. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
He leaned forward, a hand right next to her thigh on the settee. “Close your eyes and picture what I say.”
She’d glanced down at his hand, but at that, her gaze flew to his. Was he referencing her shameful viewing of the activities in that room at the London party? Her brow furrowed.How dare the host of such a party cast judgment. Her spurt of anger died when he smiled gently at her with an encouraging nod.
Her eyes drifted shut, heightening her other senses. Her breasts sat heavier in her stays, the spot between her legs heated, and the waft of his breath over her face and neck made her shiver in pleasure.
“I remember the feel of your legs.” His voice had an added rasp. “I keep imagining circling your ankles with my hands and smoothing them slowly up, up, over your knees where I linger—” He leaned in further. “My thumbs circle that sensitive area, dipping into that hollow just behind each knee, before they venture farther. That soft, creamy skin. Your thighs fall open, the muslin of your petticoat scratching without the silk stockings to protect you.”
A spurt of warmth travelled through her middle, and her thighs shifted apart a few inches. When her leg encountered his hand, she started and opened her eyes. His gaze rose from her legs to hers, a wide grin on his face. Again. Darned Earl of Debauchery, he was.
At his expectant look, she realized it was her turn. Licking her lips, she thought hard. She was woefully inept, having never learned the vocabulary or even the thoughts to voice for a seduction scene. She tried tossing it back to him with a query. “And—and does that excite you, my lord?”
He leaned back, still smiling. “Ah, ah, no questions. You try it now, statements only.”
Her hands fisted in her skirt, the delicious sensations from moments ago forgotten. A nervous flush crept up her neck and face. “You have an attractive form, my lor-Evan,” she corrected at his head shake. “You appear to keep yourself in quite good physical condition. And-and”—the rest of her words spewed out in a rush—“I should like to touch your hair.”
He was obviously fighting snickers behind his hand by the time she finished.
