Page 66 of Dare to be Wicked

“Do I?” she asked, all innocence as she tilted her head back to look at him.

“You do,” he replied, seeing the elegant curve of her neck as it met her shoulder, the delicate, not quite there scent of jasmine rising from her skin. Unable to resist, he ducked his head, pressed his mouth to that delicious curve, and groaned. “Oh, you smell so divine, Lottie. What is it? I know it’s jasmine, but there’s something else… something green….”

A touch of colour tinged her cheeks which intrigued him. “I use jasmine as my scent, but my maid puts herbs in the drawers with my… my stockings and undergarments.”

His mouth curved in a hopeless grin. “Is that so?”

She giggled and pushed away from him, running to the other side of the studio.

“Yes,” she said, putting her chin up. “But I can’t believe you can smell that. It’s very faint.”

“Darling, it has been tormenting me for weeks.”

“Has it?” she asked, tilting her head to regard him, that wicked glint in her eyes that he loved so well making his heart pick up speed.

“What herbs does she use?” Cassius asked, praying she’d invite him to find out.

Lottie turned away from him, sauntering towards the day bed. She paused to regard the explosion of paint that still stained the stone floor and sent him a delighted smile. “I can’t believe you left this here.”

“It’s finally dry,” he said. “And I like it. It reminds me of you, of the way you burst into my life and filled it with colour and excitement.”

“And made an almighty mess,” she added with a snort.

She tiptoed around the paint, even though he’d told her it was dry, lifting her skirts rather higher than necessary to give him a lovely view of her pretty ankles. She sat on the day bed, looking demure and sweet for a moment, but that couldn’t last, thank heavens. Cassius swallowed as she extended one leg out in front of her, and slowly… so slowly, pulled her skirts up to her knee.

“Come and see if you can figure it out,” she said.

He did not need a second invitation.

Lottie cast one of the cushions to the floor and he quirked an eyebrow at her but knelt at her feet, a lowly supplicant before the goddess. She settled back among the remaining cushions as his hands slid about her ankles, delicate stockings sliding beneath his hands. A whisper of scent rose from the fine silk as Cassius lifted one dainty foot. He brushed his lips over her ankle, breathing in the perfume, so slight, yet utterly intoxicating.

“Thyme,” he said, aware that his voice was scratchy and rough.

Lottie shook her head and raised her skirts higher.

“No,” she said. “Try again.”

His mouth was dry as he set her foot down and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee. He pushed her legs wider apart, aware of her breathing coming faster as he trailed a line of kisses up her thigh. A billow of petticoats tumbled about her hips, hiding the prize from his hungry gaze. The perfume was stronger here and he thought he might know it, but he said instead, “Lavender.”

“Wrong again,” she murmured.

Cassius tsked and shook his head. “I think I need to make deeper enquiries.”

Lottie bit her lip. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked torn between laughter, the desire to tease him further, and her very real curiosity as to what he would do next. He waited, uncertain as to which aspect of her character would win out.

“Very well,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “But it is your last chance.”

“Then I had best be very sure before I give my answer,” he said gravely, and then flung her petticoats over his head and disappeared in a billow of white lace.

“Cassius!” she squeaked but he ignored her, content that she was only surprised and not voicing any objection.

It was warm and dim and sweetly scented beneath the layers of her gown and petticoats. Jasmine mingled with the herby green perfume and a scent that was uniquely feminine and fogged his mind with lust. His mouth found the tender skin of her inner thigh and he kissed her, moving higher until he got to the juncture of leg and hip and the impossibly silken skin that bracketed the soft triangle of curls. His tongue drew a fine line along that satiny flesh and she made a startled sound, jolting beneath him.

“Shall I stop?” he asked, aware he’d surprised her.

“Don’t you dare!”

He chuckled, and his warm breath must have gusted over her for she gasped. Pleased, he decided his wife-to-be must be punished for ruining his lovely surprise. He flipped back the petticoats and exposed her to his view.