“Perhaps, I’ll indulge you.” He moved his free hand to her shoulder, which was not, as he’d expected, bare. On the other hand, her chemise was of the finest cotton. That thin fabric was no protection. He smiled. “If you’re good.”
“I didn’t come here to be good.”
Her low, husky whisper heightened his desire. “There she is…The Blackbird who came to take her pleasure.”
She answered him with a low hum.
“This”—he ran his hand beneath her right strap—“is an unnecessary barrier.”
She shifted her position. His body protested the loss of her warmth. But then, her chemise moved like a whisp of air along his side sending a shudder of anticipation down his spine. She must have pulled the garment up and over her head.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to see her now. He pictured the swell of her breasts, painted in the color of her nipples, making them dark rose, peaked, and ready for his attention, of course.
“Better?” he asked.
“Not better. Just strange. Unlike you, I don’t believe I’ve been, ah, as I was born for a very long time.”
Her honesty disarmed him. Boldandinnocent was a strange and heady combination.
“I think I’m cold,” she continued. “I’m shivering, at least.”
“Easily remedied.”
He pulled her down to him, wrapping her in his arms. He didn’t believe cold air had caused her to tremble. Her senses must deceiving her, because her skin was almost feverish with heat. How could he know?
They were chest to chest, hip to hip, and toe to toe.
She fit nicely. Soft curves against hard muscle. She smelled divine, too. He couldn’t have hidden his arousal if he’d tried.
Not that he wanted to try.
Now that she was naked and pressed up against his body, his head floated. His body simmered. Not the painful kind of burn—the kind that demanded he scratch—but with a warm effervescence, a fizz soothingly bubbling into his groin.
This—this conversational seduction, this tentative introduction of his body and to hers was not oblivion, but…something better? Something that could have a lasting impact.
What was wrong with him? The tisane?
“Blackbird—”
A tremor shook her body as he spoke against her skin.
“—you’ve made me hard for you.”
“So I can feel.” She sounded uncertain. “What should I do?”
Do?
He’d be obliged if she rolled onto her back, parted her legs, and bid him enter. He imagined she’d be so slick and wet and tight, this prolonged experience of want would come to a swift and powerful end.
But no.
He’d promised to educate her in the ways of pleasure and putting his own first wasn’t going to fill that dance card.
“You needn’t do anything. Yet.” He found her mouth again, this time with deeper kisses. Kisses that forced her to open. “He can wait.”
“He?”
Her light rush of breath could have been a snicker.
“Definitely he. Assuredly with a mind of his own. Right now”—he kissed her—“for instance, he’s rather incessantly demanding to be intimately introduced.”
His vulgarity caused her to emit a high-pitched sound of protest.
“He won’t be satisfied, of course. But I don’t intend for you to be equally disappointed.”
Using his thumb, he rhythmically stroked the sensitive place on her neck while his mouth continued a journey of exploration. As he drew closer to her breasts, she panted, “What are you doing, Rogue?”
“My best to drive you mad. Obviously.”
