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“Fornicate, you mean then,” he nodded slowly. “Or fuck, if you prefer.”
She gasped at the word. And then she felt like a silly little miss, being shocked by a terse word she’d only heard in uncouth places.
“Oh-my-love, I’ve drunk too much for us to fornicate.” He ran the first words together and laughed wryly. “Though God knows I would like to, thankfully I can’t.”
That was why then… Why he’d called her his love? He was drunk. That was all.
She tried to stop the butterflies in her tummy.
“Very well,” she muttered. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“I am not likely to forget you saying that any time soon,” he drawled. “In fact, it is likely to repeat on me at highly inconvenient and embarrassing moments, as well as at night, when I should be sleeping. It probably will later tonight, in fact.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that.
“I can’t give you intercourse, but…” he sighed and shook his head, muttering, “Damn but I’m a fool. I can give you something else. Something that will feel good.”
The stomach butterflies returned. “What were you thinking of?”
His smile this time was downright naughty. “A kiss.”
“We’ve kissed before. Under the mistletoe,” she protested.
“Not like this, we haven’t.”
“Are you suggesting… An intimate kiss?”
He nodded slowly as he said, “Where did you hear about that?”
“None of your business.” Her cheeks heated.
“True.” He shrugged, but the line of his shoulders had gone stiff again. “I meant no slight to your reputation or virtue. I was just curious.”
“My embroidery friends,” she confessed, probably rashly. “We visit Miss Chilson, and she is frank about such things. We discuss… Things that concern young women. Not just embroidery.”
“Miss Chilson is very frank about such things, is she?” He laughed, deep and rich. “I am delighted you have good friends. Tell me, did your friends discuss onanism?”
Even though this was just Emmett, she was blushing so hard her hair was going to be set alight.JustEmmett. He was neverjustEmmett. He was a man, a future lord, her fake fiancé. Her best friend.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And did you try it?”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely a breath this time. “But I couldn’t make it work.” She couldn’t believe she was telling him this.
His brows tugged together. “Why do you want to try fornication if you haven’t found pleasure on your own?” he asked mildly.
“Because it feels different when you touch me,” she muttered.
“Does it now?” He rose and stalked over to her. She’d have liked to say ladylike modesty compelled her to drop her gaze, but it was the opposite. He was erect beneath his breeches. Impressively, hugely erect.
“What is it?” He’d come to a stop just short of her, head tipped to the side in inquiry.
“I thought you said you were too drunk for…” She gestured.
He chuckled. “Not that drunk, no. Just… Drunk enough that I might think it was a good idea when it wasn’t. I don’t make life-changing decisions when I’ve been drinking. And making love to you would change our lives forever.”
“Not necessarily.” She frowned. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to marry. It doesn’t have to change anything.”
