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He brought her face closer and kissed the tip of her nose. “What did you dream about?”
“This. Kissing. And... more.”
More. Yes, please. Much more.He kissed her cheekbone, her chin, the vulnerable curling of her ear. Held in check by reverence... and by the knowledge that this couldn’t go too far.
“This is innocent compared to my dream,” she said.
He stroked a long lock of glossy black hair away from her forehead. “Tell me more.”
“You were wearing a kilt. I suppose that’s because we were talking about kilts. And you weren’t wearing anything underneath the tartan. I know because you... you lifted your kilt and showed me.”
“I showed you?” He smiled against her lips, surprised by the bold admission. “I’m such a scoundrel.”
“A bad, wicked scoundrel.”
“I suppose you slapped me in your dream and told me to go expose myself to the devil.”
She laughed softly. “Actually, I told you to remove your shirt.”
He swallowed hard. He’d sell what was left of his soul to the highest taker for the opportunity to do her erotic bidding.
Careful now. Don’t allow this to escalate into something you’ll both regret. It’s late, and whisky was involved, and...
“That could be arranged,” he said. Because he was a scoundrel. And that’s what a scoundrel said when a beautiful woman spoke of ordering him to remove his clothing.
“I think itshouldbe arranged.” Thick black lashes lowered over smoky eyes. “I’ll go first,” she said in a throaty whisper.
She reached behind her and undid something and her bodice slid lower, exposing the upper curves of her breasts.
He nearly groaned aloud.
He’d pictured her naked too many times to count. Cock in fist while he thought about what it would be like to have her in his bed. A potent blend of soft curves and sharp intellect that would go straight to his head and make him drunk with desire.
A lifetime of imagining the pleasure of this moment, countered by a lifetime of justifying why it could never happen.
The balance of those scales was tipping fast.
Indy undoing her bodice and presenting him with the indelible sight of her lush, full breasts was simply more than he was able to refuse.
Just a small taste of paradise.
He lowered his head to the warm swell of her breasts.
Spiced floral scent that infiltrated his mind and stiffened his body. She applied her perfume between her breasts. Every day? Or only on days she knew she’d be in a carriage alone with him?
Her breasts were full and heavy in his hands, filling his palms to overflowing with soft satin flesh.
She arched her back. “Raven,” she whispered. “Yes.”
Just like his fantasies.
She wore a necklace with a thin gold chain around her neck, the round pendant nestled between her breasts.
He lowered his lips to her breast again, shaping the darker areola with his tongue and lapping in narrowing circles to the tip of her breast.
He sucked on one nipple while he stroked her other breast, lightly pressing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
The pendant around her neck caught his eye, glinting in the gloom inside the carriage.
