“Because I am not the sort of woman who inspires lust in a man. That’s not who I am.”
“As you so eloquently put it earlier, madame: do not tell me how to feel.” He stood, painfully aware of the erection straining his trousers. If she needed proof, he was happy to let her explore it. “You are a smart, capable woman. I’ve done my due diligence and discovered that you made your fortune what it is. Your husband’s money was nothing but a seed when you married him.”
She shook her head. “It was timing—I merely—”
“Don’t downplay your accomplishments Mrs. Cabot. You are a formidable businesswoman.” He came around his desk, walking slowly toward her as if she were a deer that might leap away at the slightest scare. “You smile and smile, tricking your companions into thinking you’re so amiable you must be empty-headed. I can see the gears working inside your mind right now. You have solutions three different ways for every problem. You are always prepared.” He stopped in front of her. “Until this.”
She looked away, the color again high in her cheeks. Her eyes closed, fluttering, as if she was protesting without words.
He could smell her. The scent of her rose-scented soap, the silky talcum powder on her skin, and underneath that, he could swear he smelled the scent of arousal. It made his eyes want to roll back into his head. “I am struggling, madame. We made an agreement to begin an affair. I could have kept these thoughts from my mind had you not heard my proposal. But I find that since you have not dismissed the idea, all I can think of is you.”
Her breath hitched and came faster.
He did not touch her. No, not without permission. But he scented her, following the crux between her shoulder and her neck, up, up, teasing those honeyed curls, behind her ear, to her closed eyes. His throat was dry. “I can smell you,” he growled. “I can smell your wanting.”
“I—” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him.
His gaze caught on hers. “Anything.”
“You’ll stop if I say stop?” she asked. “No matter when?”
“No. Matter. When.” He met her eyes with every word, wanting her to know that his desire was loud, but her needs were louder. “Don’t be afraid to stop me.”
Their lips were millimeters from each other. The taste of her teased him. He remembered it from last time.
“Then, okay.” Her voice trembled. She sounded uncertain, which he didn’t like.
“I will only take the most enthusiastic encouragement or none at all. I have no interest in goading a woman into relations.” He searched her eyes, her face. Dear God, he wanted her to say yes in the worst way.
She straightened her shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Give it your best shot, Mr. Moon. Make me scream your name or I don’t want any more.”
He grinned. “My pleasure.” A second later, he’d pulled her face to his with both hands, kissing her greedily. She tasted better than anyone he’d ever kissed in his life. It wasintoxication, lust, blindness to all other things. He’d never been so focused in his life. As he kissed her, he guided her to his desk.
Her hands roamed his chest and shoulders and hair, exploring him just as he did her. Damn it all, why were there so many clothes? He pushed her to sit on the desk, spreading her legs until the long skirt went taut.
“Tell me I can use your name,” he panted, rucking up her skirts to her thighs. He marveled at the strong, shapely legs encased in white silk stockings. He stepped back, running his hands from her booted ankles to her mid-thigh. Just a hands-width from her cunny. So very close. He could smell her scent again, powerful this time.
“You may,” she panted, watching him as he enjoyed her.
He licked his lips. There were so many things to do, to try, to experience with her. “Prudence,” he whispered. “My dear, dear Prudence. What do you like?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked, an adorable crease between her eyebrows formed.
He let go of her ankle and leaned in to kiss that line, bracing his hands on the desk on either side of her. “What do you like? What makes you scream?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Nothing makes you scream? Then I have my work cut out for me.” He kissed her again, this time scooping up her thighs and pulling him flush against him. His hardness met softness and she gave a startled moan. He smiled against her mouth. “That seemed promising.”
Their bodies pushing against each other, he freed his hands to work the buttons on her bodice. With three large buttons on her waistcoat, and a hidden secure button on the inside, he pulled the garment off her shoulders. She wore a white, sleeveless shift with a corset underneath. Her breasts were pushed up, encased in fine, ruffled linen. He traced his fingerfrom her temple down her cheek, her chin, her neck, down to the middle of her chest, and into the dark well between her breasts. This was fast. Too fast maybe, but she hadn’t stopped him. Hadn’t protested the speed at which he took his liberties. “I think you would like being worshipped.”
She let her head fall back. “Who wouldn’t?”
He laughed and kissed his way down the line he’d just traced with his finger. He lapped at her breasts, cursing her corset, but careful not to dislodge it. Women’s undergarments were tricky, and he didn’t want her leaving his house looking like she’d done what they were doing now.
*
PRUDENCE WAS DIZZYwith his attentions. No one had ever looked at her like this. Gregory had never traced her legs, looked at her as if she were somewhere between a chocolate mousse and a goddess. She let her head fall back as Leo kissed her neck, and then down to her breasts.
