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“I think perhapsyoumight be tipsy, though.” Cillian remained close, a lamp in one hand, his shoulders taking up most of her view. The light flickered and bounced off his features, highlighting the slight furrows and the stubble that had begun to grow on his chin.
Ivy squeezed her hands together more tightly.
“I’m not tipsy,” she protested. “Just a little warm.”
“And floury, sweeting.” He flicked a finger across her nose.
It could have been the endearment. Maybe the touch. Or most likely it was just him. It was this itch that had been tearing through her skin since he’d brought her animals to their home. Before that, even. When he’d built a fence or stayed up with her while she nursed a hedgehog.
She knew as she pressed her mouth to his lips and flung her arms around his neck what it was.
It was him. Just him.
She saw his eye widen briefly before she closed hers and she heard the fumble of him dropping the lantern onto a surface before his arms curled about her and he kissed her back.
Sparks flared behind her closed eyelids. His lips were warm and firm, his skin was slightly scratchy, making her face feel alive. He pressed the kiss deep, bundling her as close as humanly possible and all she could feel was him.
Him hard against her chest. Him firm upon her mouth. Him with his hands holding her just so.
It was all him.
Heat swirled low in her body when she registered his arousal pressing into her. Ivy’s head swam and she drew back for a brief breath. Cillian froze until she flattened her mouth back to his and his kiss moved deeper. She followed his silent commands, opening her mouth to him and squeaking in surprise when his tongue touched hers.
He shifted back, a dark curl falling across his forehead as he performed that lopsided smile for her again.
Ivy wasn’t sure she could remember how to breathe.
“You’ll wake your family with those noises,” he whispered.
“Then perhaps we should go into my bedroom.”
The smile dropped and she held her breath and braced herself for yet another rejection. Perhaps he’d recalled how plump she was or how innocent and terrible at kissing she could be.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
Certain she wanted more kisses? Certain she needed more of him? Certain she might explode if she did not feel his touch further, more intimately? Yes, yes, and yes.
All she could summon was a nod.
He didn’t wait. He reached past her, turned the doorknob and took her hand. As soon as he shut the door behind him, his mouth came to hers. Cillian’s hand thread into her curls, loosening the too-tight chignon in the most blissful of ways. She couldn’t hold back a groan.
“You’ll definitely wake your family,” he murmured, pressing kisses down her throat and summoning shivers all the way up and down her spine.
He kissed further and worked her fichu free from her dress then flung it aside to give him full access to her decolletage. She gasped when he curled his hands about her waist, keeping her held firm, whilst his hot mouth danced a pattern of sensuality over her breasts. Her nipples chafed against her stays, and she fought the urge to close her eyes lest she miss a single moment of this handsome man worshipping her body with his mouth
Her body.
Herbody.
Oh Lord, what would he think of her if he saw more? It was all very well when it was trussed up in stays but if—
“You’re delectable.” Cillian said the words against her skin.
Delectable?
The word rang in her mind as he worked a finger under her stays and skimmed it across a nipple. She closed her eyes. Maybe she was delectable. Maybe not.
Either way, she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. All she wanted was more touch.
