AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It was…” She grasped for words. Astounding. Magical. Special. So special and intimate and sweet that her heart hurt at the knowledge they were going to break off their engagement.
“I see what all the fuss is about, now.” Snowflake light words, a tiny cold touch.
When his face shuttered, she realized that had been the wrong thing to say.
“Emmett.” She touched his shoulder. “What about you?” He’d been erect earlier, and a glance down revealed an intriguing bulge.
“You don’t owe me anything.” His voice had been cut to a hard edge. “That was a gift for you, not a bargaining chip.”
“Thank you. But I’d like to touch you.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“I want to.” And it surprised her that it was true. She’d never been one to swoon over handsome men. But her attraction for Emmett had grown as naturally and seamlessly as her hair or her fingernails. One day it hadn’t been there, and then it was a part of her. “I want to see you and know you.”
“More exploration?” He sighed and his expression was troubled even as he reclined into the chaise next to her. “I’m here for you to do with as you will. My body is yours.”
The words,my heart is yours, floated unsaid.
Unsaid because they were untrue, she told herself sternly. He was happy to let their bargain elapse and she ought to be too. And if she wanted to learn about men, this was her opportunity.
More importantly, this was her only opportunity with Emmett, and that was what she needed more than breath.Emmett. Kind, teasing, tempting Emmett who had started as her enemy and become her friend, fighting for her at every turn.
Except now. She couldn’t allow that sadness to overcome her.
She pushed herself up so she was on her knees on the chaise. They were the same height like this, or would be if he leaned forward.
“Will you take off your clothes for me?”
He shook his head slowly. “You should find out about a man’s clothing for yourself. You never know when it might be useful. I’ve done the tedious bits already.” He indicated his chest, where he was down to a partially-buttoned shirt. No waistcoat, no tailcoat, no cravat or pins.
Her hands shook as she leaned forward and fiddled with the first button. It wasn’t like the ones on her clothes, he was right. It took her unpracticed fingers forever to get it undone, and Emmett looked on all the while. On the second button, he seemed to begin to get bored, fingers trailing over the gaped neckline of her nightgown.
And suddenly she could see half the night having been wasted away with these unnecessary buttons, when she didn’t have much time with Emmett left. She turned one and twenty tomorrow, and they’d end their engagement. She would go to the continent and try to remember why she’d wanted to, and he’d marry some other woman, who would warm his bed and make him smile and bear him children who would be as roguish and naughty as Emmett himself. He’d make love to her, without arguing that he shouldn’t, that was for sure.
The vision of him, happy with another woman was in her mind as she grasped the two sides of his shirt in her fists and yanked. Buttons bounced, thread snapped, and his chest was exposed.
“Impatient, eh?” he murmured.
A glance up at his face revealed an expression of amusement and confusion and admiration all mixed together.
No, I was thinking of you dedicating all your attention to another woman, she didn’t reply.It evoked my most primal self.
He was hers, for tonight at least.
She had no answers to the question in his gaze, so she allowed her gaze to dip to his chest. So very different from what she saw of herself or her cousin. His skin still held a hint of gold, presumably tan from being outside during the summer. His chest was flat planes of firm muscle, regular ridges delineating sections. Dark hair was scattered, leading down to where his shirt was tucked into his breeches. She reached to tug it out but instead her fingers were drawn to slide over those defined muscles.
She didn’t have words to say how lovely he was. Elegant, artistic marble statues, of course, gave young women like herself the only understanding of what a man’s body might look like. And glimpses of workers in fields with their shirts off during the harvest, or little boys swimming. But he was something different altogether. All the hard lines of a marble statue, but vivid, warm, and alive not just with color and movement, but details that marble couldn’t show. The soft feel of his skin, the smooth hair that bounced back as her palm stroked over it.
He let out an almost silent hiss as her hand approached his waist.
“Maybe you should undo your breeches,” she whispered. She couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t rip those too.
“Thank you for restraining your violent urges in this case. It will be awkward enough trying to explain to my valet why I need him to do mending on Christmas day, without having no clean breeches to wear.”
Their fingers brushed as he made short work of the buttons. But he left the placket in place, as though allowing her the enjoyment of revelation.
She had seen drawings, and heard Miss Chilson describe a man’s staff, but she still gasped as she revealed Emmett’s.
