“I thought I did, but as I said, you continually surprise me.”
She pulled the ends of a bow at her waist, drawing apart what he saw now was a pelisse of sorts that covered a separate gown beneath. “Ah,” he said when she turned around and let the pelisse fall to the floor, revealing a row of pearl buttons down her back. “Now I see.”
She laughed softly as he unfastened the first button, making him smile.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“When you insisted I get a maid to undress me, I never thought it would be you.”
He grinned. “Neither did I, though I spent many agonizing hours imagining that scenario.” As he slid the pearl buttons free of their holes, he caught a glimpse of her bare skin and caught his breath, realizing that not only was she not wearing a corset under the gown, she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
Evie, you clever, naughty girl, he thought, leaning closer as he pulled the gown off her shoulders, inhaling bergamot scent as he pressed his lips to the side of her throat, relishing the shiver she gave in response.
More of the same pretty golden freckles that dusted her face were scattered over her shoulders and he wanted to kiss them all, but he knew they didn’t have time for that, not now. Within a couple of hours, people would begin waking, and though Delia’s suite was only a few doors down the corridor, he didn’t want anyone to see her slipping out of his room and back to her own. Reluctantly, he pulled back.
Reaching for the plait of her hair, he untied the ribbon and unraveled the braid, spreading the long, silken strands apart, then he turned her around. As he did, her arms immediately went up between them, folding across her breasts to hide them.
“No, Evie, no,” he chided softly, his hands clasping her wrists. “Don’t hide your breasts from me. I want to see them.”
She was blushing, a rosy wash of color across her face and neck, and when he pulled to spread her arms apart, he could feel the resistance in her, and he stopped.
“Evie,” he murmured, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. Don’t deprive me of the chance to see the reality.”
“I don’t...” She paused, licking her dry lips nervously even as she slackened in his hold. “They’re just so small. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“That,” he said gently as he spread her arms apart, “would be impossible.”
Only one glance proved that his imagination had not played him false at all, and he had to swallow hard before he could say so. “This just goes to show women are hopeless about judging these things,” he said, his voice unsteady. “They are small, yet round and sweet, with the prettiest pink nipples—” His voice utterly failed him at that point, but the words he’d managed to utter proved to be enough.
“Pretty?” She looked up, a hint of wonder in her voice. “Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said and drew her closer, sliding his arm around her waist. “As Delia told you, I know a beautiful woman when I see one.”
She laughed, but then, he bent his head, and her laughter ended in a gasp as he kissed her breast, her head tilting back, the ends of her hair tickling his wrist.
He savored the moment, then drew back, his hands grasping handfuls of her gown to pull it down her hips, wanting to see the rest of her, but Evie, of course, confounded him again. Taking his wrists, she pulled his hands down, stopping him. “Wait.”
He froze, agonized. “Evie?” he murmured and pulled back to look at her, praying she wasn’t losing her nerve.
She hesitated, biting her lip, driving him mad. “Don’t I get the same chance?” she whispered at last.
By the time his lust-drugged senses figured out she was not calling a halt, she had already reached for the sash of his dressing gown, and as she untied it, his worry dissolved and he laughed.
“Want a peek, do you?” he asked, and when she nodded, he spread his arms wide, allowing her to pull the edges of his dressing gown apart. “Look your fill.”
“Oh.” The pink in her cheeks deepened to scarlet, and her eyes went round as she stared at his flagrant arousal. “Ohhhh.”
Fearing she might be losing her nerve, he opened his mouth to offer a reassuring word, but thenshe lifted her gaze to his and said in an aggrieved voice, “Statues don’t look at all like you.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was the most unexpected woman he’d ever known.
She laughed, too, showing him that smile as she leaned closer, spreading her hands across his bare chest, and his laughter ended in a groan of pleasure. “Go on,” he urgedwhen she stilled, looking at him in sudden uncertainty. “Go on. Touch me.”
She complied, running her hands across his shoulders, along his arms, and over his ribs, then she stilled, her hands curling at his waist as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“I think you’re beautiful, too,” she whispered.
His heart twisted, constricting with powerful emotions—fear because he knew he’d fall off that pedestal one day, and hope that when he did, the reality would be enough to make her happy.
