Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(60)

“Don’t go too far, darling.” He lifted his shirt to loosen the tapes of his small clothes.

“Should I take off my nightclothes?” she blurted. Then she winced because it seemed so abrupt.

His lips twitched. “They are coming off at some point. Now would be wonderful.”

She shivered and reached for the buttons at her neck. Suddenly there seemed to be too much light in the room. Because the lamp beside the bed was still lit. She wasn’t ready for this. It would require too much of her. She wanted to flee, but she wasn’t certain her legs would work.

His hand over hers stopped her fumbling fingers. “If you are ready.”

As if sensing the change in her, Evan sat on the edge of the bed then swung his legs up beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed as if to reassure her. Her heart leapt at the way he responded to her moods although she didn’t think she’d betrayed herself outwardly.

Just as quickly as her urge to flee had sprung, frustration washed over her. She wanted to see him shed his underclothes. She wanted this. She’d wanted it from the first moment she thought he was about to kiss her in that stairwell so long ago. He made her blood sing in a way no other man ever had.

He reached across her and straightened the bedclothes or rather moved them out of the way. “You must tell me if I am too hasty for you.”

She shook her head. Before he arrived, her mind had been in such a whirl of thoughts, fears, and humiliation. He’d taken far too long to come to her room for her to believe that he wanted her. If she had been in his position, she couldn’t imagine anything would have kept her away for so many hours.

Still, he was here now, she reminded herself. Their meetings had always been after midnight. And if passion was all he was willing to share with her, then she had to show him she could be passionate. But the thought of failing overwhelmed her. She didn’t know what she was doing, he hadn’t kissed her—really kissed her—other than that one night in the conservatory. What if she disappointed him? What if he found her breasts too small? Her body too childish?

What if he was no longer willing to marry her? She couldn’t ask. A lady didn’t ask a gentleman to marry her, but she could ask for him to seduce her—to finish teaching her the lessons in passion that he promised. That had never been expressly forbidden in her lessons on decorum.

“Susanah,” he said jarring her attention back to him.

A rush of wanting flooded through her. Her skin tingled, her nipples tightened, and her thighs clenched. If just his voice had this affect on her, what would his touch do to her?

“You’re not allowed to think of embroidery or any thoughts you use to distract yourself. Be here with me now.”

She nodded. He knew how she thought, how she managed to get through without her emotions being exposed, but he wanted her emotions. He wanted wild and wanton. “It is overwhelming. But I want this. I want you.”

He gave a low growl as he flung off his shirt, slid down his smalls, and then kicked them away.

She closed her eyes. Instinct, really. A lady didn’t look upon a naked man. But then she drew her courage, rolled to her knees, and pulled off her nightgown.

His sharp intake of breath drew open her eyes. He knelt on the bed before her. He was taking in her form, but his gaze lifted to her face. “You’re beautiful, Susanah. So very beautiful.”

“So are you,” she said. His chest was broad and strong with a smattering of dark curly hairs in the center, pointing down to his thick, upward pointing, instrument. Then she felt a flush steal over her. He probably didn’t want to be called beautiful. She couldn’t look too long at that male part of him, although it was beautiful in a way—and so very much larger than she’d expected from the nude statues she’d seen.

Instead, she forced herself to look in his eyes. She spent a minute trying to figure out what shade they had claimed. More green than brown, but his pupils were so wide and dark. His look was more serious than she’d expected, more intense.

He caught her hands and brought them to his chest. “You can touch me, darling.”

“Yes.” She flattened her palms against him, the warmth of his skin burning through her. “Would you kiss me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. But he caught her face in his hands and brought it toward him. “I want to do a great deal more than kiss you, you know.”

She nodded. She wanted to believe that he desired her—at least enough to see it through.

“I want to touch you.” He brushed his lips across hers, so tantalizingly. She tingled everywhere, but mostly in the private place between her legs.

She nodded again. Her heart thundered.

With one hand he skimmed down her back as he gave another teasing brush of his lips. His caress didn’t stop at her waist. Instead, he cupped the curve of her backside.

“Here,” he added. Then he nipped at her lower lip.

She shivered then nodded. No one had ever touched her there, but his hand felt lovely and did strange things to her insides.

His other hand moved down her neck and over her arm until he skimmed the tip of her breast with his thumb. “And here.”

A jolt, achingly sweet and intense, shot through her. She gasped with surprise. He caught her gasp with his mouth, but too quickly he backed away.

“And here.” His hand slid down to the light brown patch of hair on her mound. “And everywhere in between.”