“Turn,” he commanded.
But his defiant Evelyn instead swished to the four poster, placed her hands to the mahogany, and peered over one shoulder. “You may unlace me.”
The brazen malapert.
He strode towards her, relishing the picture she portrayed: red hair tumbling upon her back and shoulders, that sinful corset beckoning him to heaven.
Evelyn’s glittering gaze seared him, hazy with desire as she licked her lips, and all he craved to do was sever those snarled laces, rip the chemise, and take her – fierce and relentless.
Yet…
He hauled a slow breath.
This was Miss Evelyn Pearce. Not the widowed Mrs Swift.
And a Rothwell did not sever, tear or rip…on this occasion. If he continued with such haste, he would last somewhat less than the quarter hour she’d once accused.
A Rothwell had patience. And this Rothwell endeavoured to carry out all deeds to the utmost of his ability.
So he slowed, sprinkling kisses upon her nape, savouring her moan, and with unique leisure untangled laces and unfastened hooks one by one, appreciating each tug and relishing each slip of knot, until her corset tumbled to the floor.
And with as much forbearance as he could muster, he pressed himself against her until Evelyn’s lush backside cradled his arousal through the thin chemise, until his hands could encircle and caress her breasts, until he heard her moan, her forehead tipping to the bed post, hips surging back.
With one hand, he delved lower, shoving the chemise aside to discover her heat – caressing and ravishing.
“I would take you like this.” He bucked his hips, nipped her nape. “But tonight…” He spun her. “…I never want to look away from your eyes.”
Evelyn knew notwhat had transpired. Only that Casper had metamorphosed from a voracious lion into one that teased its prey with tamed nips and whispered growls.
Not that she was complaining, her skin afire at his salacious words and flawless touch.
Notwithstanding a few kisses as a girl, Evelyn’s only other experience came from catching sight of transactions in Covent Garden alleyways, a fast three-penny upright accompanied by grunts and a squeal.
Of course, she’d known there was immense pleasure to be had, and Flora had…intimated. But never had she imagined this slow torment of both flesh and mind.
He kissed her again, a measured ensnarement, and Evelyn allowed herself to be languidly lowered to the bed and pressed to the plush coverlet, wits absconded with her stockings.
Casper smiled, a wicked curve which compelled her body to shudder and eyes to close as he slanted and kissed a chemise-clad nipple, fingers busy with the securing ribbons.
Progress ceased and a rustle ensued, but she remained motionless until his hand clutched over hers; a coldness met her palm and she twisted, eyes opening to behold…
Diamonds.
“All I own is yours,” he whispered, lips laving at unveiled skin and bare breast. “Gems, art and…me.”
The diamonds bit within her palm as he pressed.
“I have nothing but myself, Casper.” She arched. “But that I will give to you forever.”
A sinful grin, and all at once, chill air met her thighs as she found herself wholly nude. Casper stared, eyes glinting bright as any jewel she could wish for.
Shyness bid she veil herself with the coverlet, those diamonds scattering, but Casper shook his head. “Never hide such beauty,” he whispered. “I adore you.” And he seized a diamond, watched its trace of dulled iced splendour upon her breast, waist and lower.
“Casper…. Please.”
All hell let loose.
He growled, diamonds flung across the cotton sheets, shirt hurled to the air, all patience abandoned in the face of her plea, and he kissed with ragged force, possessive hands palming.
