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“Yes,” she said dreamily. “It’s only you and I. With all the time we wish.”
He lifted his head, watching as his fingers traced along her temple. “Your hair is down around your shoulders.”
Seeing his unspoken request, she nodded and reached up to remove the pins from her hair. He held his palm open, and she placed them there, one by one, until all her sable hair was released.
It was the first time in ten years that anyone had seen her with her hair completely loose, and a tremor ran through her at the intimacy.
He’s my family now.
His palm remained suspended in the air with a haystack of pins atop while he stared as if he beheld something, someone, beautiful.
“I’m under the tree, and my hair is down around my shoulders. Then what?”
Blinking, he stepped over to the small kitchen table and took care to transfer the handful of pins without losing any.
“Your hairisn’taround your shoulders, no. Not yet.” He returned to her, his skilled fingers threading into her hair, frissons shooting through her sensitive scalp.
He handled items of great value in his profession; she’d witnessed his utmost care in his work. The look in his eyes now, though, the reverence in his touch, was unlike anything before.
He gathered her hair, drawing it over both shoulders until it settled over shoulders, bared by the low-cut gown, and cascaded to her waist.
“And I take my time with you, Molly. First I kiss you.” He demonstrated lingeringly. “Then again. And again. Until you take my hands as you did earlier here in this kitchen—as you did in the cab after the concert.”
As I’ll do again now! She drew his hands to her swells once more, parting her tresses, this time pressing into him without reserve.
“Yes, just like that. But then I hold you while I kiss you again.” His body rigid with self-control, he kissed her gently, the pressure building until she gripped his coat sleeves urgently and her tongue traced his lower lip.
Molly moaned when his big hands moved reverently up and down the sides of her ribcage. She wanted those skillful fingers back on her breasts, his tongue against hers.
He gave them to her, first the velvety slide of their tongues mating, then his highly trained fingers, stroking her nipples with the same patience and skill he applied to piano keys.
But it wasn’t enough, not anymore.Page fourteen. The book showed a woman with bare breasts, her gown unlaced and down to her waist. Leaning back against a tree trunk surrendered by paradise, she had a look of bliss on her face…and a man’s mouth on one breast, his hand under her skirts.
When Molly first saw the picture, she hadn’t quite understood what was being portrayed. A grown man suckling on a breast as if he were a babe? That wasn’t quite as strange as the hot iron, but it didn’t make sense.
After perusing through the next pages filled with close-up illustrations of breasts of all shapes and sizes with tongues and fingers applied to them, she’d returned to page fourteen.
Many times.
Then, later that night, her middle finger sliding wetly against the swollen, sensitive peak between her folds, she recalled the image of the woman under the tree. A sudden and startling awareness tingled her breasts so powerfully her nipples felt wet.
They weren’t, of course, they were simply newly and powerfully alive, awakened by the thought of Frederick’s sculpted lips enveloping her, licking her.
“Would you ever…?” she dared to ask in his kitchen.
“Would I ever peel your gown from you and worship your breasts?”
She whimpered, not just from his words but from the hunger in his eyes as he looked down at his hands on her.
He urged her backward, and at first she didn’t understand. Frowning, she did as he bid, taking steps back until she was pressed against the wall nearby.
“Forgive me my rakish admission, Molly, but I’ve wanted to do just that for two, long years.”
“Oh, Frederick,” she exhaled. Then she frowned. “Even before you saw page fourteen? Whatever made you think of doing that?”
His low laugh was mirthless. “To admit such devilish motivations on Christmas Day of all days. Molly, when I sent you to the window to adjust the draperies…well, it started as a utility to my tuning, for that first day was so rainy and dark, and I couldn’t see the strings well under the lid.”
He closed his eyes, and Molly stroked his jawline, encouraging him to open them again. “Continue your rakish admission.”
