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She shivered and pressed her newly freed breasts against his shirt. Something about the concept of Urs naked, on his bed, while he was clothed—he swallowed—he’d never been so hard in his life. If she was indeed going to kill him there was no better way to go.
Jay cupped her chin, bent down and drank her in. The way she always parted for him, welcomed him; lavender and cherries, the best of summer, that was Urs.
“Cloves,” she murmured, “and cherries.”
“What?” He stared at her.
“Cloves and cherries, with some mint and whiskey, that’s what you taste like.”
Mint was hygiene and whiskey was obvious.
Cloves, that was new, but cherries, like she’d read his mind? Like they were one already?
His heart began to pound. His. She was his. They matched—no matter the surface—they matched. Right or wrong they matched.
“Is that a good thing?” He kissed each lid. Her lashes fluttered under his touch, tickling his lips.
“It’s the best thing.”
He fought the urge to pinch himself. It must be a dream, though if it was, damned if he was going to wake up, he’d stay there forever, live there if he had to.
She slid backward so she was fully on the bed and tugged him down by his necktie.
Urs licked her lips before running a hand over his chest. She was magnificent, and she wanted him, wanted to please him as much as he wanted to please—he blinked. He removed her palm and placed it at her side.
Jay slid his fingers down her cheek as her eyes widened, pleading with him. She had no idea. She had no bloody idea who she was to him. He skittered his thumb down, past her navel, low enough for her to gasp before brushing the cloud of tangles to the side once more so he could view her entire face, watch every reaction.
“Urs, do you trust me?”
“Completely.” There was no hesitation, not even a pause. Her voice was clear and neutral as if she recited a fact.
His stomach knotted. Pressure stung behind his eyes. He was so inadequate in so many ways, but now, in this moment, he was going to have to be everything, give her every gift he could.
He inhaled. “I mean do you really trust me?”
Urs wrinkled her nose and squinted at him.
“To drive me in a carriage? To invest my money? What sort of trust?”
He bit back a laugh. Such an Urs answer. Damned though if it didn’t make his trousers tent further.
Jay grimaced. How exactly would she react to the next suggestion? He’d never actually done it. In his previous encounters there’d always been mutual understanding, but never trust.
However, in the here and now, with Urs, he craved nothing more. Despite the wrongness, the impropriety, the danger, the idea and its rightness for them, in that moment wouldn’t leave him. His breath hitched.
“To permit me to tie you up, Urs.”
She shrugged, lifting those magnificent breasts in the motion so his body throbbed. He couldn’t help himself. He reached down and grasped, just one. She cried out and her back arched.
“For what purpose? Don’t you trust me? I mean I’m not particularly experienced, but I’m not sure I need to be taken completely out of the equation.” She managed the words amidst a moan. He flicked the nipple with his tongue, thrilling as she writhed.
“I trust you very much and you may not have much experience, but skill-wise you’re a bloody near virtuoso.” Jay kissed the side of her neck. Her skin was like velvet. He could devour her, and to be able to do it how he wanted. He breathed in slowly, filling his lungs. He need to extend the pleasure, make the moment last as long as possible.
Urs tugged his arm and placed it back on her breast. She was so very delightful, not helpful to his stamina, but delightful.
“Then why?” She ran her fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, his skin tingling from her touch. “It’s not that the concept isn’t fascinating, but if you were to do that, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.”
Her voice contained confusion still, but far more curiosity, and certainly no fear—a good sign. Also, the way she’d moved her hands—all the way down his back—no, focus on her.
