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With a deft motion, he grasped her free hand and pulled her onto the gold and white satin-covered bed, springs creaking as she bounced. Before she could process what happened she was on her back, Jay leaning over her, his arms on either side of her torso, encasing her.
“Jay.” In a trance, she reached around his shoulders and tugged his head downward. She needed—him, his weight pressing against her.
She parted her lips and welcomed the invasion of his tongue. The taste of cloves and whiskey and cherries overwhelmed her senses. Fully clothed, her hips bucked against him, as if her body demanded a further union of its own accord.
The man above her though, had other ideas. He broke the kiss and hovered, his hands encircling her wrists so she couldn’t move. She whimpered in protest at the absence of his mouth on hers. He smirked, but took pity on her.
He trailed his tongue around the outer edge of her ear, before he dropped featherlight kisses down her throat. Her body temperature ignited higher than anything that could burn in the fireplace as he flitted just under the neckline of her dress, so near her aching nipples, but still so far. Every nerve in her body tightened. Her breasts strained against their encasement, desperate for him.
“So,” he whispered. “How good do you want to feel?”
How could she answer the question? Was there a word for the ultimate amount of good? Would “I don’t care, provided you keep touching me” suffice?
“I want you to show me all of your secrets.” What was intended as a tease was more a gasp. Her blood pumped in her ears, but warm tingles reverberated from her core.
&n
bsp; A grin spread over his face. “That’s a dangerous request, Miss Nunes.” He released a wrist and stroked a hand straight down from her throat above her pendant, between her breasts, over her stomach, so close to the area that ached most, only fabric separating them.
“Perhaps I’m a dangerous woman.” Her voice was hoarse and breathy. If only she was dangerous, and not just with a balance sheet. Jay sparked not mere feelings but a hunger.
He must have read her mind. Her stomach clenched with desire as he slid his hand back up to her breast. He clasped down—such delicious pressure. But she needed more. She moaned in frustration—too many layers between them. Worse, the blasted tease traced a circle in the center and her nipple rose, hard and wanton, straining towards his touch.
“Jay, oh Jay.” His name was more of a strangled cry on her lips now.
He chuckled. “Now that’s a tone I enjoy hearing.”
She opened her mouth to giggle, but moaned as he sucked her through the material. It took all her self-control not to rip her own garments down the center.
Her mind raced. How could she remove all of her clothing as quickly as possible? Why had she worn six petticoats? Whomever had decided on the fashion had not experienced what Jay was doing.
“You can tear the dress. It’s old. I’ll pretend Arte did it or Hecate, maybe blame it on Rachel and Lydia. I just want it off.”
The bastard laughed—a throaty, deep, baritone laugh.
“It’s not funny, and why are you stopping?” So what if she whined. Charming, not charming, seductive or not, he had to hurry or she’d explode with need.
“No, it’s not funny, it’s adorable and the most attractive thing you’ve ever said to me.” He brought her hand to his lips. His first kiss was chaste, but he flipped her palm and licked down to her wrist with a vigor that was anything but.
She whimpered. She was pathetic, but all pretense of dignity was gone. Only naked want remained.
His grin widened at the sound. “Come, sit again. I’ll take care of that. It’s one of the benefits of experience.”
He reached around her back and attended to her buttons, kissing down her corset as it was exposed.
Her breath hitched. Too slow, way too slow. She’d go mad before he was done. She’d have to take matters into her own hands.
She gathered her skirt around her waist and hoisted the dress over her head. The fabric stretched and strained as she struggled. When she pulled herself free, she tossed the lavender silk in a corner, eliciting a hiss and scurry from Arte. Now she wasn’t going to need to fib.
Jay laid a kiss on the bare skin just above her laces.
She turned to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re skilled with corsets.”
“It isn’t particularly difficult.” Jay lifted her chin and kissed her, first with a light flutter.
Soon though, he’d pushed open her lips and breathing no longer mattered, only that his mouth was on hers. Cloves and cherries.
Jay slid her chemise from her shoulders, tracing her newly bare skin. He glided his fingers to the edge of her corset once more, tugging at the ties on her back for a moment or two. The cover and boned prison fell away of their own accord.
