He reached down under the covers and grabbed one of her thighs, pulling her leg over toward him.
Though he’d touched her quim the night before, the casualness of this contact felt more intimate.
“Come on now, use me. Get warm.”
“Thank you,” she said, unable to keep a grin off her face. He was willing to warm her up at the cost of his comfort. A thrill shot through her: She’d inconvenienced a man, and he hadn’t laughed or yelled at her.
It was no wonder women of thetonthrew themselves at him. He was so bloody nice. And at ease. Something about him invited you to be at ease in his presence too. To enjoy yourself.
“You’re staring at me.”
“Your eyes are closed!” she squealed. God, he made her feel positively girlish. For perhaps the first time in her entire life.
“I can feel it.”
“You cannot!”
“I can. You little minx, you’re imagining me naked, aren’t you?” Harriet shrieked a laugh, and he finally pried his eyes open.
The laughter died in her throat. His dark eyes were molten and hungry. He looked like he might positively devour her. Ten thousand dictionaries wouldn’t hold words enough to express herself; she hardly knew what she wanted.
She swallowed thickly as his hand came up to her face, his thumb tracing her lip.
“I like your hair down” was all he said before crawling over her and claiming her mouth in a searing kiss.
Her mind was still thinking of the comment about her hair; meanwhile her body was in some kind of exquisite agony under him.He licked the seam of her lips and when she opened her mouth, he slid his tongue along hers, tasting of spice and … brandy.
Brandy. He’d been drinking.Oh.
Did he need drink to steel his courage for this? Would he always drink before he kissed her? Or was it like her father, where drinking was simply a daily requirement?
God, his tongue felt so good. As one of his hands made its way up her ribs again, she had a feeling its destination was her breasts, her breasts that ached for him. Why did her breasts want her to get involved in swiving? Swiving! Bloody hell! She couldn’t swive him. She couldn’t let him swive her. He’d think her quite the pitiable wanton if she went back on her promise the very first—oh god, his hands.
Hands that would be on another woman just as soon as they returned to London.
“I—” Harriet muttered, deeply regretting what she was going to say next. “I—we shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” To his credit, Alexander pulled back immediately, putting the greatest possible distance between them that the small bed allowed.
“Right. Yes.”
“I am sorry, it’s only …” God, but she didn’t want to explain herself. What was the not-pathetic version of “I think I might fall madly in love with you if we do this and it won’t even register for you as any different than any other night”? She was saved from having to elaborate.
“I remember. No need to explain yourself. Got carried away … being a rake and all that.” He tried to say the last part casually, but Harriet could hear the falseness in it. He sounded … spurned. Although she couldn’t imagine he felt rejected byher.
More likely she was hearing his embarrassment at the situation. Women didn’t turn down Lord Alexander Stirling. Some part of Harriet assumed it would be a thrill to deny him, to be the one woman who wasn’t enraptured by him. It felt much more like a loss.
After a few moments of awkward silence, where Alexander retreated under the covers and turned away from her to face the wall, she decided to speak up. Who knew how many more nights they’d have together? Since she’d declined his affections, he’d likely insist on separate rooms from here out. And they weren’t going to share a room back in London. That was more than certain. Besides, they were meant to be friends. Friends could not-swive one another and still be cordial. Friends could talk.
“I do have a question.”
“I feel certain I will loathe it, but go ahead,” Alexander grumbled, still facing the wall.
“Earlier, I looked in your lapel pocket …”
“Yes?”
“And I found my word”—she reached over to her book, opened the page she’d marked, and took out the slip of paper she’d stolen back—“godemiche.”
Still facing away from her, he let out a whispered curse.
