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“An apt self-portrait,” I replied, and damn it to hell, it sounded breathless. Without any other ammunition, I blurted, “Even if you don’t remember the night I wandered into your room, surely you remember last night when you came into mine.”
“Well,” he intoned, so salaciously that my heart skipped a beat, “do you want to know what I think of you, Miss Millicent Foxboro?”
“No,” I replied. I really didn’t.
“It’s only fair…” He moved an inch closer to me, and I had nowhere to go. “You’re stubborn and odd-tempered. You’re obstinate and snappish and nosy.”
All valid in some way, all hurtful to hear. I prepared to defend myself, but he grabbed my chin, lifting it, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.
“But you’re smart, disarmingly romantic. Everything about you vexes and beguiles me. I think you’re bedeviled by your temper and your secrets and all the passions you’re terrified of. Furthermore, your face gives away everything, and I know you’re lying, Millie, when you say you believe any word Margaret has said against me. As for mysuggestions,they were all promises that I fully plan to fulfill. Iama gentleman, Millie, but not always, and I certainly don’t intend to be one right now.”
“You’re trying to intimidate me,” I said.
“Are you intimidated?”
“No.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Do you like it?” I’d meant to insult him, suggest again that he was the craven monster I’d accused him of being. But there was too much yearning in my voice, and it came out a whisper.
His hand moved to the door handle, turning the lock.
“Yes,” he replied, then claimed my mouth with his.
I was ready for it, and I met him with equal fervor, arms encircling his broad shoulders, our height difference requiring me to stand on tiptoe, his arm a stabilizing force around my waist. He deepened the kiss as our bodies met, and I parted my lips to his tongue, ready to be devoured. Already he was hard as granite, wilding me. I untangled myself just enough, leaning into his arm as I made enough space to reach between us and slide my hand along the length of him, finding it imposing.
He nipped my mouth in response.
“Don’t be too naughty, now, Miss Foxboro, or I’ll have you making noises everyone is bound to notice.”
“If my mouth is properly occupied, that won’t be a concern.” I’d never said such lurid things in all my life, but I meant it with every nerve in my body. I held his concealed shaft against my palm and drew up again.
He released a tight breath of want.
“All this time you accused me of being a beast, while you were a little devil,” he said, his voice like velvet. In a smooth, forceful movement, he slapped my bottom.
“Professor,” I gasped, shock and delight increasing my appetite for him all the more.
“I should have done that the night you barged into my room.” He cupped his hand around the stinging cheek he’d assaulted. “And much more besides.”
“You said you didn’t remember…”
“I lied.”
So quickly that it left me unsteady, he turned me around, pressing his desire against my back. With a step, he repositioned us in front of a bronze-framed mirror hanging to the left of the door. It had been placed to reflect the stately oil painting on the opposite wall, but now accommodated the outline of our figures. A hand found the hem of my dress, hiking it above my thigh to expose the garter, and finally the black silk underwear.
“I’ve decided not to make this easy for you,” he murmured in my ear. “You’re going to have to keep quiet on your own if you don’t want everyone to know what we’re up to.”
His hand disappeared beneath my dress, roving its way to the waist of the pantie and slipping down inside it, his fingers roamingthrough the curls between my legs. My breath came uneven as his thumb slid along the most sensitive part of me, teasing it stiff. The growing bloom of ecstasy made my knees weak, and I raised an arm to grasp the back of his neck, giving myself balance. He slipped his fingers farther between lust-swollen lips and dipped deep into my wet heat, forcing me to fight the sound rising in my throat inspired by that exquisite invasion. I kept my eyes on our reflections. Though we were barely more than silhouettes in the glass, I could make out enough to enjoy the sight of his hand tucked between my thighs.
“Mmm,” he hummed, satisfied with my lust. He pressed his palm flat against my mound to encourage the growing pleasure with pressure, then withdrew his fingers and slid them in again, much farther this time. I rocked against his hand, but in response to my eagerness, he removed it, leading me to open my mouth in protest, only to inhale sharply as he found the tight nub of nerves again, fondling it between thumb and forefinger.
“This is unfair,” I managed despite my muddled brain.
“No, it’s perfect retaliation for your cheek tonight,” he said in my ear, his talented fingers continuing their work. I glanced down to watch the rise and fall of the fabric of my skirt, painfully obstructing the view. He could have asked anything of me, and I would have mindlessly obeyed, a servant to the longing he was building in me.
“Look at how beautiful you are,” he murmured, his free hand at my throat, tilting my head back to rest on his chest as he fingered my pleasure.
