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He waited an hour before leaving his rooms again. He’d wanted to go to her directly, but he had to allow enough time for her maid to help her prepare for bed. He’d dismissed his own valet after he’d appeared in his room.
It was a ritual they went through every night. Oliver would appear, offer his assistance, and John would dismiss him. Maybe one day he’d grow used to the custom, but for now he wasn’t comfortable standing there while another man dressed and undressed him.
It was enough for the older man that John made a point of laying his clothes out neatly in his dressing room for his valet to arrange to have cleaned or put away.
John had removed his cravat, but he still wore his waistcoat as he made his way to Amelia’s bedroom. He rarely wore a formal topcoat when home, so his appearance wouldn’t cause any raised eyebrows if he ran into one of the staff.
He tapped on her door, and it opened a crack. Amelia peeked out at him. He was about to ask if she was alone, but the way she opened the door wide and pulled him into the room was all the answer he needed.
He waited for her to lock the door and turn to face him again. She wore a linen nightdress that should have been proper, but on her was sin itself. Instead of the extra volume of fabric that draped from the bodices of the dresses she wore every day, the fabric fell in a straight line from her shoulder to the floor. And since Amelia’s figure was anything but straight, the fabric clung to her breasts and hips, accentuating her body in ways he realized he’d seen once before. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders in dark waves that he longed to bury his fingers in.
He stood in shocked silence for several seconds but decided to wait until later to ask her why she’d tried to hide the fact they’d already met. He had other matters to attend to first.
“I take it you’re alone?”
She huffed out a surprised laugh. “I’ve been alone for the past forty-five minutes. I feigned a headache and told my maid I was going straight to bed.”
She moved into his arms and tilted her face up. He needed no further inducement to take the kiss she offered. The one he’d been craving all day since she left his study.
Chapter 23
He was finally kissing her.Dinner had been fraught with tension on her part, and she’d half convinced herself something would happen to prevent Lowenbrock from visiting her as he’d promised. It seemed too much to hope for.
She’d made sure to dismiss her maid quickly and settled in to wait. And wait.
Finally the discreet knock at her door came. And now he was here, and heavens, the man could make a woman weep with the way he kissed.
A shiver went through her when he raised his head and pressed his mouth to the side of her throat. She tilted her head to the side, giving him unrestricted access. His hands moved from her waist to settle on her hips, bringing her flush against the ridge of his arousal. She was slightly shocked by the moan that escaped her throat, a sound that could only be described as wanton.
He lifted his head to look down at her, a wicked smile on his lips. Good Lord, this man was going to be the death of her. If she weren’t looking forward to this so much, she would be drowning in embarrassment.
“You should go lie down on the bed. It seems I have a bit of undressing to do to catch up with you.”
She almost told him she would help but decided to save that for another time. For now, she’d be content to watch him disrobe, a thought which enthralled her more than it should.
The bedsheets were already turned down, but she decided to sit on the edge of the bed instead of lying down as he’d suggested. In that moment, she was acutely aware of her inexperience.
His eyes remained on her as he undid the buttons of his waistcoat and removed the garment. It said a lot about him that he didn’t throw the garment on the floor but instead folded it and turned to drape it over the bench at her dressing table. He remained facing away as he tugged the shirt from his trousers and pulled the white lawn garment over his head.
Her mouth went dry as she took in the muscles of his broad shoulders. She’d known he was strong, she’d felt as much for herself when he’d held her in his arms. But watching the way his muscles rippled as he moved was another thing altogether.
And then he turned around. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes eagerly took him in. The broad muscles of his arms and shoulders, his chest, and then his abdomen. Good heavens, were all men built in this way? The ridges of muscles, the fair hair that covered him, trailing down to a line that disappeared beneath the trousers he still wore.
He seemed content to stand still and allow her to look her fill. When she realized she’d been staring for far too long, she closed her mouth with a snap and gave her head a small shake.
She wanted to say something witty to break the tension, but her throat had gone dry. She didn’t think she would survive if she had to sit there and watch him remove the rest of his clothing.
Either he realized that fact or he wanted to touch her as much as she did him because he crossed the short distance that separated them and sat next to her on the bed.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “You must tell me if I do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I want to take my time and go slow with you, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to manage it. But if you tell me to stop, I will.”
Was there another man alive who would make such an offer? The man who’d shown an interest in her that night at the tavern had seemed intent on taking what he wanted without her permission.
There was so much of Lowenbrock’s skin on display, but she wasn’t brave enough to touch him yet. She settled for placing a hand over the fabric that encased his thigh.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He swallowed hard, the tense line of his jaw giving evidence to his restraint. “My given name is John. I would like you to use it.”
