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“Then show me.”
He let out a breath, slow and anguished. “I can’t sleep, you know.”
“I know,” she murmured.
“I lie there and think about you. About touching you.” His hand slid up her arm and over the soft yellow fabric of the dress.
“I lie there wishing you would touch me.”
He twirled a lock of her hair about his fingers.
“And hoping you don’t.”
He smiled. “You don’t want to like me, do you, lass?”
“I don’t like you,” she protested. “Except when I do.”
***
SHE KISSED HIM, WRAPPING her arms about his neck and pulling him as close as she dreamed of doing in the long dark hours before dawn. He felt so good pressed against her. She’d avoided men her whole life. She didn’t intend to marry. Her father had shown her what folly tying herself to a man was, and she certainly didn’t want a child out of wedlock. And so she had not allowed herself to be flattered by compliments agents paid her when they went in and out of Baron’s office, and she had excused herself from invitations to assemblies and picnics and whatever other matchmaking schemes her sister and mother concocted.
But now, with Callahan Kelly kissing her, she realized what she had missed. In his arms she not only felt pleasure but a sense of completeness. This was what she had been waiting for. This was why she’d turned down all those offers to dance or walk or take tea with men. None of them were Callahan Kelly.
His arms, locked on her waist, slid lower, cupping her bottom then lifting her to sit on a table. “There you are,” he murmured. “Me neck was beginning to ache.”
She gave him a playful swat. “Are you saying I’m short?”
“You’re perfect, lass.” He kissed her again, pushing her knees open and coming to stand between them. She was drawn by his heat but resisted moving forward and pressing against him. His lips trailed over her cheeks and her jaw then down to her neck, where he caressed and teased. She shivered and sighed then caught her breath when he whispered Gaelic in her ear.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“I’m telling you how beautiful you are. How much I want you.”
“You know we can’t do this.” It hurt to say it. She wanted him. She might be a virgin, but she knew the basics of intercourse, and she knew the signs of arousal.
“That’s why I haven’t taken you home, lass. Here I have to behave meself. Somewhat.”
“Somewhat?” she asked on a gasp as his tongue ran over her throat.
His fingers toyed with the buttons on her bodice. She’d packed this yellow dress because it buttoned in front, allowing her the ability to dress herself. But now he opened the first two buttons at her neck and peeled the material back. His finger slid in the V he’d made, and she found she swallowed hard.
“Breathe,” he said, unfastening another button so that her bodice was now open to the middle of the chest. “Your skin is like satin. I want to touch you.” He unfastened another button, revealing the swells of her breasts encased in the tight corset. “Here.” He ran a finger over the top of her breast, and she gripped the table so hard she thought she might have splinters.
“Has a man ever touched you here, lass?” he asked, unfastening another button.
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
His hands were nimble, and the bodice opened. He pushed it back, revealing her simple white corset, laced over her chemise. The corset laced in the front as well, and he simply undid the knot and loosened the laces. The corset sagged, and he pushed it down and off her shoulders.
Without all the material over her skin, she could feel the cool air on her chest, and her nipples hardened under the thin chemise. He pushed the corset down further so that only the linen of this last undergarment hid her from view. His gaze met hers, and there was a reverence there she had not expected. He brushed her hair back from her shoulders and then tugged the chemise down from her shoulders, inserting one finger into the top and dragging the material down until one breast was exposed.
“Bridget.” His hand paused just below the heavy flesh. “What else are you hiding under these prim layers?”
His hand cupped her, and she closed her eyes against the warm roughness of his palm. His thumb skidded over her nipple, and she made a sound low in her throat.
