A lie. It was folded neatly in the tiny cedar box that contained the blue hair ribbon Bean had purchased for her when he realized she’d never had a pretty one. It was her box of things too perfect to touch.
The duke, however, was endearingly imperfect and an absolute delight to touch. She lifted her fingers to loosen his fastidiously starched cravat. Slowly. Deliberately. And then she pressed a kiss to the newly exposed flesh of his throat.
“Be careful what you start,” he warned her. “I need every knot and every thread in place if I’m to keep my body away from yours.”
She released the top button of his tailcoat without taking her eyes from his. “When on earth did I give you the impression that I wanted distance between us?”
A dark eyebrow arched. “When you asked me to help you find a wealthy suitor.”
Oh, right. That little fib.
She shook her head and reached for the next button. “I don’t need to save myself for—”
He twirled her to the door of the library as if to the tune of a private waltz playing just for them. He turned his key in the lock with one hand because his other arm was busy holding her close.
“There are many things one can do without ruining oneself”—he paused—“in the classic sense.”
She slid a finger beneath the exposed collar of his linen shirt. “What if I want the classics and the non-classics?”
“Chloe.” His gaze was tortured. “I can’t offer you marriage. All I can offer is pleasure.”
“That’s all I want.” She slid her arms about his bare neck. “Lots and lots of pleasure. Ruin me for all others, Your Grace. Wynchesters never were cut out to be respectable.”
He covered her mouth with his as they swept backward through the library. Her knees buckled against the sofa and they came crashing down atop the cushions in each other’s arms. Her pulse was jittery beneath her skin, but already her body was ripening, impatient for what was to come.
His eyes shone like blue fire. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Lying with you is what I’vewantedto do ever since you made me those bonnets.” She dragged her lower lip against the scratchy edge of his jaw. “I realized it was what I wasgoingto do the moment you said ‘Not betrothed.’”
He caught her lip between his teeth, gently, then licked where he had nibbled.
“In that case, I should have mentioned it sooner.” He pressed openmouthed kisses down the side of her throat, tasting her, supping there at the base. “I’ve wanted you since you made me put in an appearance at the Blankets for Babes charity tea with the wrong kind of blanket.”
“I didn’t make you do anything,” she protested, dipping her head to allow him more access. “A certain know-all decided to go off half-cocked without asking any questions.”
But her insides warmed at the knowledge that he had been thinking of her even then, try as he might not to. She was not the one he needed, but she was definitely the one he wanted.
The feeling was mutual.
She knew better than to become romantically entangled with a cull. But along the way, he had stopped being a mark and started being Lawrence. The man whose seductive kisses and romantic murmurs melted her knees and who somehow kept a straight face when Tommy’s “Great-Aunt Wynchester” was at her most outrageous. He did all of that for Chloe.
Her pulse rushed faster. Although she had not coupled with anyone before, her life had been far from sheltered. She knew what to expect and was glad it would be with Lawrence.
Thiswas the memory she wanted to look back on when she remembered her first time. One perfect night. A fantasy come to life, before reality came to snatch it all away. This was their moment.
Chloe reached for him with eager hands. She could not divest him of his clothing until she got rid of his coat.
The buttons slipped free in a blur. “Aren’t you hot under all these fashionable layers?”
“My entire body heats at the mention of your name,” he growled, and reached for her. “The sight of you makes my trousers too tight.”
She grinned and pushed his tailcoat off his shoulders.
“Poor darling.” She ran a finger down his chest. Finally she could undo his waistcoat. “How terrible it must be to suffer inside such binding breeches! We must get you out of them at once.”
He allowed his waistcoat to fall to the floor, but he did not let her reach for his waistband. Instead, he caught her wrists in his hands and pressed a kiss to each pulse point. Her blood ran faster, carrying the kiss to every secret place she hoped he’d find.
He dropped her wrists and sank between her knees to the carpet to begin untying her half boots. She could see only the top of his head. As he loosened each lace, he buried his face beneath her skirts to kiss the top of her thigh or the inside of her knee. She felt each touch of his tongue on her flesh all the way to her core.
