“Have you ever seen a naked man before?”
Her mouth went dry as she slowly shook her head. “I’ve seen them shirtless, working.” Sweaty, grimy, and yet still somehow beautiful as their muscles strained with their labors.
“Again, I’ll go only as far as you’re comfortable with.”
She wanted to ask if there would be pleasure for him, if he would guide her toward what a man needed, but she didn’t want to introduce any expectations she might be unable to fulfill. She wanted to imagine they were both here because of a desire for each other, not simply a longing for the forbidden. She offered him a smile that probably appeared a bit forced. “Carry on, then.”
One side of his mouth lifted provocatively. “I like when you order me about.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Do you?”
“Mmm.No names. Just get on with it.I remember every word you uttered that first night. And every sound you made. I want to hear those sounds again.”
He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her throat, his heated dew coating her skin there. Her eyes closed. She sighed. His tongue created a lazy circle while his fingers returned to her hair. She heard the ping of hairpins hitting the floor and felt the shifting of weight as he began liberating her bound-up strands. Then the tresses were falling around her shoulders and he was groaning. “Glorious.”
She’d always hated the shade, a timid sort of red, lacking in the vibrancy that would have made her stand out in a room. Instead, it caused her to become lost in a crowd. Or so she’d always felt, but his admiring it now made her wonder if she’d gotten it wrong. And if so, what else might she have misjudged regarding her worth?
His mouth returned to hers with an urgency, and her thoughts scattered like birds from trees after hearing a rifle report. Her mind focused on the sensations he was skillfully bringing to life with that wonderfully wicked mouth as his fingers went to work on the fastenings ofher gown. Not hurriedly but taking the time to leisurely explore each bit of skin that was revealed as the material loosened and parted.
She didn’t know if she’d ever experienced anything more sensual than that light, teasing touch that reflected an appreciation for what was being offered. Subtle in a way, and yet so very profound.
When his fingers were finished with the fastenings, he slowly, ever so slowly, as if to prolong the anticipation, eased her bodice down, working her arms free of the shoulders until the silk was draped over her skirt. Her black corset with its red stitching and piping was clearly visible. The risqué undergarment had once been a gift to herself because wearing it made her feel desirable.
Seeing the heat smoldering in his eyes, she couldn’t help but believe that it had achieved its ends. While she normally wore a chemise beneath it, tonight she hadn’t. She’d wanted the satin against her skin, chafing her nipples. She’d wanted nothing between the upper swells of her breasts and the tightly woven embroidered lace that decorated the corset’s curves.
“You’re a woman of hidden depths.” His voice was low, husky.
She thought his fiery gaze should have made her want to cover herself. Instead, she had an urge to spread her arms wide and announceIt’s all yours. But she wasn’t quite as bold as all that. She’d been brought up to give modesty full rein, to entice with only hints of what was available.
He trailed the tip of one finger along the edge of the lace, and a blaze of pure desire scorched through her. He cupped his hands around the outer side of eachbreast and stroked his thumb over her nipple. It had already pearled but now it hardened into a little pebble. He lowered his mouth and circled his tongue over the peak still covered in silk. She looked down on his bent head, felt the dampness easing through the cloth, her nipple going impossibly tighter. She couldn’t prevent the moan as he pushed her breasts together, lifted them, and his mouth closed tightly around that one small still center, his tongue continuing to work not only to drench the cloth but another area he wasn’t even touching. That secret, forbidden place between her thighs going wet.
He gave one last lick, one tiny nibble, a tug before pulling back. He reached for the fastener.
“Stop.”
He did, with a squeezing shut of his eyes, before opening them to meet her gaze, and she was left with the impression it had pained him to cease his attentions. His breath wasn’t quite as steady as it had been a few minutes ago.
“It’s not fair for me to be bared thus and you not.” His eyes were dark pools of want and desire. They made her bold. “Take off your clothing, down to your waist.”
He suddenly appeared feral, untamed. “As you wish.”
She’d never known three little words could be filled with such promise.
Without ever taking his direct and almost challenging gaze from her, he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He unknotted his neckcloth, wadded it up, and threw it in the same direction. It didn’t have enough weight to carry it all the way. It merely hit the chair before falling to the floor. Thewaistcoat was next, landing on top of the coat. He held out his arms. “Would you find no pleasure in divesting me of my shirt?”
She reached and saw, more than felt, the trembling in her fingers. How embarrassing. They were only buttons. He folded his large, steady hands over hers where they hovered in the air, cowardly, not willing to travel those last few inches to gain what she wanted.
He brought her hands up and pressed a kiss to one, then the other, against the backs of her fingers. Nothing salacious, but somehow incredibly reassuring. “My hands shook much worse the first time I unbuttoned a woman’s clothing.”
She released a startled laugh, then clamped her mouth shut.
The heat in his eyes died to embers, compassion. “It’s all right to laugh, to smile. To joke even. Pleasure comes in all forms, Nora.”
He carried her hands to the button at his throat before releasing his hold.
Slowly, she pushed the button through its hole and then did what he’d done to her: she circled her finger over that silky flesh. He emitted a low purr that she took unheralded delight in hearing, in knowing she was responsible for creating with just a light touch.
She wanted him less controlled than he was now. His shirt was of fine linen but not so thick that she couldn’t see the outline of dark circles beneath it. She covered one with her mouth, running her tongue over the linen, aware of the peak that instantly formed. Releasing a guttural groan, he plowed his hands into her hair, holding her there, not by force but simply by letting her know how very much she reigned overhim. Suddenly she didn’t want to lick him over the cloth. She wanted to lick his skin.
