She thought he might be surprised.
And he was. He jerked when their lips met, almost as he had when she’d slapped him the night of the soiree.
She thought he might resist, especially since she had kissed him to stop his protests.
And he did—but only for a bare moment. Then, as she pressed her tongue against his lips, he plunged both hands into her hair, sending hairpins spinning down to the mosaic tiles beneath them. He returned the kiss, dominating it with a ravening ferocity that speared wanton need through her. She buried her hands in the lapels of his coat and clutched him to her as if he would vanish if she let go. She craved him, wanting him closer, to feel his skin beneath her hands, to give him as much pleasure as he had given her. To enjoy him as he had her.
His mouth left hers, moving down her jawline and neck with tiny bites that he soothed with his tongue, actions that made every nerve fire. Rose let go of his coat, entwining the fingers of one hand into the silky curls of his hair, relishing the fine softness of the strands. She pressed the other hand flat against his chest, inside his waistcoat as she arched against him, her words pleading in a breathless sigh. “Thomas. Please. Let me. Please show me.”
He stopped, his face pressed against her neck, his heartbeat racing hard under her hand. He groaned, a harsh sound from deep within his chest. “You do not know what you are asking of me.”
Rose could barely believe she had the courage to speak. “I know I want to please the man I love, to have him feel the same remarkable ecstasy than he has shown me. To let him know that I am ready to be his wife in every possible way, to be with him in every way two people can possibly be. I have never been with another man. I know there are entire volumes that I do not yet know. But I’m not a complete innocent. Life has shown me—and you—too much.” She took a deep breath. “Please. Let me touch you.”
Thomas leaned back, his eyes searching her face. After a moment, he sighed, his expression softening. “Do you plan to spend the next thirty or forty years surprising the bloody hell out of me?”
“Yes.”
A smile crossed his face, but he shook his head. “I cannot believe your sisters told you about...”
Rose shrugged one shoulder. “Actually they did not. They were talking to each other. They were not entirely aware I could hear them.”
Thomas laughed. “You were eavesdropping!”
“Of course I was! How else do you learn things in this world?”
“And what exactly did you learn from them?”
She curled her fingers against his chest. “I would rather show you.”
He studied her a moment, then seemed to make up his mind. He moved her off his lap onto the bench and released a long sigh. “Show me.”
Rose swallowed hard, then slid off the bench and knelt in front of him. She pushed his knees apart, and her gaze settled on the front of his trousers, a sudden jolt of nervousness making her fingers quake as she reached for the buttons of his fall. She gave a silent hope that her memory of that long-ago conversation remained accurate and that her sisters had not exaggerated, as they often did.
Too much was riding on this moment.
Rose could feel the hard ridge of him beneath the cloth, and his breathing grew a bit more rapid and shallow as her fingers brushed along the length. As she peeled back the fall, Rose hesitated. There was still a lot of fabric covering him. She wasn’t exactly sure how men’s clothing worked, but she tugged up on the bottom of his shirt. He helped, a bemused expression on his face, raising his hips a bit as she pulled it free from his trousers.
“Damn.” More cloth, although the outline of his arousal pressed clearly through it. Of course, his small clothes.
Thomas snorted a quick laugh, then trailed his fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe my clever girl is stumped by a bit of silk.”
“Would you like for me to rip it?”
“Not unless you plan to explain it to my valet.”
Undaunted, Rose placed her palm over his groin with a firm touch. Thomas hissed and pressed his lips together as she stroked upward, her fingers curling over the tip. She leaned over him, pressing her cheek against him as she let the heat of her breath warm him through the silk.
“Damnit, woman, move.” His command made her grin as she leaned back. He opened his small clothes and eased his erection free, watching her as she took in the sight of him for the first time.
Beatrice hadnotbeen exaggerating. In fact, her sister’s description now seemed woefully inadequate—it had never occurred to Rose that men would come in different shapes and sizes. Thomas’s erection looked marvelous to her eyes, dark and engorged, and her gaze locked on him as she closed one hand near the base.Firm but not tight, Beatrice had said.Confident but not hurtful. His breath caught as she closed her other hand around him, near the top. “She was right,” Rose whispered.
“Hm?” The noise was one of a man who could not form words.
“Like velvet over iron.”
His fingers tightened in her hair, urging her head forward.
Rose began to stroke him then, slowly at first, gentle touches of her fingertips as she explored the tip. With a long exhale, Thomas stretched out his legs and slid lower on the bench, exposing himself more to her. Rose realized that she truly loved this, the feel of him under hands, the pungent scent of his loins. The control. When the first drops of an amber liquid appeared at the tip, she licked it clean, an action that made Thomas jerk and moan.
