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“While I want to taste pleasure, I do not want it to burn me alive and destroy me,” she said softly, “and I feel you can do that to me. You’ve always said whatever connection between us should remain real and honest. I am drawn to you. So much. I…I am afraid I might fall in love with you and lead my heart to pain.”
Regret flashed in his eyes before his expression became inscrutable. “Felicity—”
She surged forward and pressed a finger to his mouth. “One night,” she breathed. “This was not a confession to try and ascertain if you own any tender feelings for me. Nor was it a confession of any greater feelings of growing affection on my part. But it is perhaps an explanation for why I will only give you…me…us, one night.” God, she wanted him.
He nipped sharply at the finger over his mouth, snaked his hand around her waist and hauled her to him. Felicity squeaked when he lifted her and sat on the oak desk, caging her between his legs and against his body.
“God, Felicity, one night can never be enough to sate the fire between us.” He kissed her, communicating his raw hunger with a tangle of tongues, and wildly beating heart. “Twelve nights.”
Her laugh was muffled against another kiss. “Two.”
“I am not certain you are picking up on the art of negotiation.”
“I know it well enough, you rogue,” she whispered against his mouth before kissing him with all the pent-up longing in her heart.
“Seven nights.”
His voice was bland, but something in his eyes burned and raged. That something hooked low in her belly and tugged. “Three and no more,” she said with unruffled composure. “I must protect my heart unless you are agreeing to give me yours.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You do not seem to even believe me to have a heart.”
“You perceive it correctly, at least not one inclined to romantic sentiments.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth and tenderly said, “Three nights.”
A breath shuddered from her. “So, we understand, three nights of loving. They do not have to be consecutive nights. I will have no expectations of you afterward, and you will have none of me. When we return to London, we will part ways amicably.”
“I would have us remain friends,” he said gruffly. “I cannot imagine unknowing you.”
She stared at him in wonder then wordlessly nodded. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice until she almost couldn’t hear him. “Now, let’s negotiate the days of loving.”
She gasped and slapped his shoulders. “What?”
“Surely you know men and ladies tup in the days?”
“Tup?”
This time he nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “Tup, fuck, make love. There are more, but those are my favorites.”
Felicity was blushing by the time he had finished.
“We’ll have day loving separate from night loving, hmm?”
She snaked a hand around his neck. “Perhaps. We shall leave room for more negotiation; if the first night is terrible, I will accede to no days and might even remove the nights.”
He made a choking sound. “Terrible?”
“Aye.” She nipped his chin. “I know a few widows at this secret ladies’ club I am a part of.”
“Ah, the mysterious 48 Berkeley Square.”
“How discerning of you, my lord,” she said with a light chuckle.
“And what have those widows said, hmm?”
“Bedsport can be terribly boring and unfulfilling. What if—”
His sexual growl of affront pulled another laugh from her.
