She inhaled sharply and leaned more of her weight against him. If it weren’t for the thousand layers of her skirts, she would feel his erection. Could press against it. He ignored his rude organ.
Her hair completely undone; he ran his fingers through the silky locks.
“Your hair is so beautiful. Like liquid fire.”
Her mouth twisted. “It is naturally a boring dark blond. I dye it red.”
“Nothing about you is boring. But this color suits you better. Fiery hair for a fiery woman.”
“Do you think I am fiery?” The incredulity in her voice was clear.
“Kalli, you practically vibrate with passion. You throw yourself wholeheartedly into every endeavor. Yes, I think you have a fiery personality.”
“Is that a good thing or bad?” she asked, sighing as his fingers massaged her scalp.
“I don’t know yet. A week ago, I would have said it was an undesirable quality. Now, I like it. I enjoy your passion and your fire. But I’m still wary. Burns are painful.”
“You make me sound dangerous. But ice can burn too.”
“You consider me cold as ice?”
She twisted in his arms to look at him. “No. I think you would like to be. But you are not.”
He kissed her. Sealed her mouth with his to stop her all-too-accurate words. Because he could feel the ice melting. And he wasn’t interested in her psychoanalysis.
A feeling he did not want analyzed curled about in his chest. He blocked it, drowned it by putting his hands to good use, helping her out of her dress.
The clothes of a Victorian lady were complicated and multilayered. He had become quite adept at buttoning and unbuttoning, lacing and tightening and tucking. But tonight, his haste made him clumsy while undressing her.
He wanted to lay her completely naked on the bed. Wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body. Her delicate perfume, a blend of violets and something deeper and exotic, tantalized him. It drew him to follow the faint trace of fragrance from her neck into the shadowy valley between her breasts.
She moaned, and her hands crept down to cup his straining erection. Now it was his turn to gasp and press against the sweet warmth of her palm.
“Dariux, hurry,” she said, turning around to give him better access to the fastenings.
He chuckled. “Patience. Delaying gratification makes it better in the end.” But he started on the infinite hooks that held her bodice together, the task made more difficult by his impatient fingers.
At last, all the hooks were undone, and her bodice gaped in the front. He could wait no longer, and his hands slid over her shoulders and into the loosened edge to cup pert breasts that were the perfect size for his hands.
Why had he always favored large breasts? He found hers quite entrancing. His thumbs brushed their cusp, and he was rewarded with a moan and the immediate tightening of her nipples. He pinched softly and rolled them, enjoying her squirm of pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you?” At her incoherent response, he insisted more forcefully. “Tell me.”
“Yes!”
She turned like a whirlwind, dislodging his hands. She was not passive, his Kalli. Her mouth captured his in frantic abandon, while her hands deftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. He would have found her urgency amusing if he wasn’t feeling the same way.
His waistcoat undone; she didn’t wait for one layer to be off before starting on the next. Her only purpose was to expose his skin as soon as possible. And then he felt them. Her warm hands were on his torso, caressing, inflaming him further.
When she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the center of his chest, he thought he might explode. Wrestling back control, because he wanted to make this last, he took her hands in his and twirled her to face away from him again, her arms crossed over her front. The new position brought her back to his chest and his mouth close to the succulent curve of her ear. He nibbled on it, then licked it. She whimpered and tried to escape again, but he held tight.
“Such an impatient woman,” he crooned softly in the ear he had just tormented. “I’ll give you what you want. More. But let’s take it slow. We have all night.”
She nodded, so he released her and went to work on her skirts and petticoats. Meanwhile, his mouth tormented the back of her neck and her shoulders. Openmouthed kisses and nips, a lick here and there. Her skin was warm and silky, faintly sweet underneath her perfume. Intoxicating.
Her skirts, crinolines, and petticoats all fell with a swoosh, and she stood clad only in her chemise, corset, pantalets, and stockings. He was used to seeing her in a lot less. And yet he found these intimate garments infinitely alluring in their modesty.
He ran his hands over her buttocks, beautifully rounded. Softness encasing muscles of steel. His hands circled her hips to converge on the front, in the delicate triangle that was the portal to her womanly flesh. But he didn’t breach her entrance just yet. He just wanted to lay his hands over it. Claim it. Let her feel his possession of her body.
