She skimmed her palms over his buttocks, and he jerked and drew in a sharp breath. Immediately, she pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I don’t want you to stop.”
She chanced at look into his eyes. They were heated with desire for her, almost golden now. He worked his fingers underneath his tight cravat, loosening the snowy white cloth.
“You don’t have any idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
“No.” Her hand flew to her throat, eyes widening with concern. “What am I doing to you?”
“You’re killing me,” he whispered, leaning close to her, his cravat dangling from the front of his waistcoat.
“But I thought you liked it?”
He grinned. “If I’m to die, there’s no way I’d rather go.”
She scrunched up her brows in confusion.
His smile turned wicked. “Maybe it would be better if I show you what I mean? No objections?” he asked, reaching for her.
She hesitated, not sure what to make of the roguish glint in his eyes. “No.”
Imitating her investigation of him with his own thorough examination of her, he showed her the sweet path to sinful execution. She shivered at his touch on her shoulders, felt warmth infuse her when he traced the curve of her spine, and gasped as his palms glided over her breasts, lingering for just a moment as she had on his chest. Her nipples hardened immediately, and she knew he felt it through the thin silk fabric of her gown. Then, as she had done, he moved to her waist and finally cupped her bottom with both hands.
She panted with need, wanting something more and not knowing what. He showed her, pulling her body against his so that she could feel him, hot and hard, against her abdomen. Though it was surely wanton, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from pressing against that hardness.
He groaned, pulling her even closer. Then, quite suddenly he released her and stripped off his coat. She stood, feeling dazed, as she watched him struggle with the tight-fitting garment, then throw it on the floor by the fire.
Without thinking, she bent to retrieve it. “What are you doing? Pocket will have your head.”
He laughed and took the coat from her, fully intending, or so it seemed, to throw it right back down. “I don’t want to think about Pocket right now, and I won’t take you on the bare floor.”
At his words, she froze. His intentions, put so plainly, jolted her out of her haze of desire. Of course, she’d known what she was agreeing to, but she hadn’t allowed the idea to form clearly in her mind.
He would take her. She’d be a fallen woman. No longer a virgin. Not that she cared much for her virginity—after Roxbury she had no desire to marry—but could she live knowing, even if no one else did, that she was ruined?
She glanced at Ethan and knew he again followed the path of her thoughts. He had an uncanny ability to do that, though she’d never been difficult to read. She saw he’d moved away from her, giving her room, an opportunity to flee if she wanted.
But now that she looked at him, all of her doubts and fears fell away. She loved him, wanted him, and she was willing to accept—even embrace—the consequences that came with those feelings. Scandalous as it was, shewantedto be ruined by him.
“I’ll put down blankets.” She went to the cupboard where she kept them. The simple, familiar task of gathering the blankets calmed her. She felt safe here, in this place that was her own. And she felt safe with Ethan. Tonight he, too, would be hers alone.
Blankets piled in her arms, she turned back to the fireplace. When she passed Ethan, his hand on her arm stopped her. “Francesca—”
She dropped the blankets and put a finger to his lips. “I want this,” she whispered and reached on tiptoes to kiss him.
His eyes darkened and, without hesitation, his arms came around her, his mouth returning the kiss with all the passion she’d yearned for earlier. His mouth, his tongue, explored her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. His hands were equally as thorough, skimming here, lingering there.
She was flying, her head spinning, her body thrumming with desire. And just when she felt that she, like Icarus, had flown too high and would be burned by the flames of this sun she had so foolishly thought she could control, she was securely under him, cushioned by the softness of the blankets beneath her.
Somehow her dress was gone, and she wore only her light chemise. She should have felt exposed, embarrassed, but then her eyes focused on the cheerful curtains she knew so well, the orderly shelves she’d stocked herself, and the familiar armchair she’d sat in countless times.
Then she looked at Ethan, and the same feeling of familiarity and comfort washed over her. Until he pulled away from her, stripping off his waistcoat and shirt. Then all she felt was desire—longing—for his touch. Despite the heat and nearness of the fire, she shivered from need as much as the brief lack of contact.
She reached out to him and murmured, “Come here.”
He grinned.
“Give me a moment.” He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.
