Page 49 of Courting Elizabeth

“Your neck.”

My lips trailed beneath her ear.

She gripped the arms of the chair.

“The way you’d say my name if I touched you.”

“You are touching me.”

“Not like in my dreams.”

She closed her eyes.

I came around the chair and knelt before her. This position put me beneath her gaze, where I wanted to be: not as a master demanding, but as a man asking.

“Tell me what you came here for.”

She inhaled slowly.

“I don’t know.”

“Then tell me what you want now.”

Her eyes dropped to my mouth.

“For you to kiss me.”

I did.

I placed my hands on her knees, through the dressing gown, and kissed her with the slowness her arrival deserved. She leaned toward me. Her hair fell around our faces, shutting out the rest of the room.

When she slipped a hand behind my neck, I rose up between her legs.

The chair was wide. Her knees parted just enough to welcome me. I felt her heat through the layers of fabric. My control narrowed to a single certainty: I must still ask her for each step.

I slid a hand along her thigh, not venturing beyond what she could accept.

She shivered.

“Do you wish me to continue?”

She held my gaze, her cheeks burning.

“I need to hear you.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Continue.”

My fingers traced up the fabric to her hip. I caressed the curve, then her waist. The belt of her dressing gown lay beneath my hand.

I stopped.

Elizabeth opened her eyes.

“Why?”

“If I undo it, I will see your nightgown.”

She blushed.