A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(58)

“And these bits of your hair, curling down . . . They’re for me, too.” He caught a stray lock and wound it about his fingers. “You can’t know how I’ve been dying to touch your hair. Even softer than I dreamed.” His touch dipped to her neckline, where he eased the violet silk aside to reveal a pale sliver of her white chemise. “Look at this,” he said, fingering the neatly hemmed edge. “White and crisp and new. It’s your best, isn’t it? You wore your best for me.”

She nodded, so entranced by his low, sensual whisper that she’d lost any capacity for denial.

“I want to see it,” he said. “Let me see it.”

“What?” Surely he couldn’t be suggesting she remove her gown here, in the middle of the village green.

His hands slid to her back, and the closures of her gown. “You wore it for me, so let me see it. Just the shift, love. Just the shift. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a girl in a plain white shift?”

Susanna didn’t like speculating on the answer to that question. She only knew she hated all the girls who had come before.

His lips brushed her cheek, her neck. The scrape of his whiskers set her senses ablaze. “Let me see you. I only want to look.”

“Only look?”

“Maybe touch, just a little. But only through your shift. I swear, nothing more. I’ll remain clothed. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” He tipped her chin. “You can trust me.”

Could she? She felt herself nod.

His hands slid around her ribs and went to the closures at the back of her gown. “Are these false buttons?”

Without waiting for her answer, he eased the top hook free. Then another. And another. Her bodice began to gape in front. Cool night air rushed over her skin, drawing her ni**les to tight peaks.

“Bram. We can’t do this. Not here.”

“Should we go somewhere else?” He loosened another closure at the back of her gown. Her left sleeve slipped from her shoulder in a ripple of violet, baring more of her crisp white chemise. Her ribs pressed against her stays as she struggled for breath.

Her gaze darted to the Blushing Pansy.

“No one can see,” he murmured, pulling her close. His lips brushed the side of her neck. “They’re all occupied in the tavern. Don’t think of anyone else. It’s just the two of us right now.”

Another hook surrendered, and she felt her gown falling away. He drew the right sleeve down her shoulder, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. As if by instinct, she tilted her head to give him better access. His tongue slid lazily over her pulse, setting her senses aflame.

“Bram . . .”

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s all right to want this.”

His words soothed her nerves. Still, her fingers trembled as she drew her arms out of her sleeves. Once she’d freed them, the violet silk bodice fell slack at her hips. From the waist up, she was clothed only in her corset and chemise.

His hands went to the small of her back, where her corset laces were secured in a tight knot. He fumbled a bit as he picked the tapes loose, as if his hands were unsteady. That subtle hint of uncertainty was comforting.

The laces slid free of their holes, and her corset fell away from her body. Air rushed into her lungs, dizzying and fresh. He let the garment fall softly to the grass. With it went all her confidence. She might as well have been stark naked, considering how vulnerable and exposed she felt.

“What shall I do?” Her voice shook.

His breath caressed her ear. “Just breathe.” He pressed a kiss to her jaw. “Just be here with me. Just be you.”

Warmth bloomed in her heart, suffusing her entire body.

Just be you, he said. He didn’t want her to be different. He didn’t wish she were someone else. He just wanted her to be herself.

She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him full on the lips. Because those precious words deserved a kiss. But most of all, because she was being herself—and kissing him was what she most wanted to do.

They sank into each other, deepening the kiss by slow, sensuous degrees. His tongue teased and coaxed, and she responded in kind. They kissed in an unhurried, almost playful fashion. For a minute. And then matters became serious indeed.

“I need to see you.” His hands tugged at her gown, pushing it down over her hips. “All of you. Now.”

She helped him, shimmying in place until the fabric gave way and slipped to the ground in a shimmering pool. He took both her hands and helped her step free. Then he stood back from her a pace, angling her to catch the best light. His gaze roamed over her. Every inch of her. Beneath the thin muslin, her ni**les strained for his touch. The longer the silence stretched, the more impatient she grew. Then more uncertain. Her shift was thin, but it was so dark. Just how much could he see? Did he like what he saw? How did she compare with all those other girls he’d seen in plain white shifts, so very long ago?

“Lovely.” A ragged sigh shook free of his chest. “So lovely. Thank you.”

He drew a single fingertip up the inner slope of her arm. As his touch swept over her scars, she held her breath. But her wounds didn’t give him a moment’s pause.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said, tracing over her shoulder and dipping his fingers to the neckline of her shift. His touch blazed a fiery trail across the tops of her unbound br**sts. “But there’s nothing in the world more enticing than a shift like this. Sweet and pure, yet so revealing. Lace, ribbons, silks, furs . . . Nothing can compare.”