Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)(50)

He touched her face, then, placing his fingers under her chin and tipping her lips up to touch his. And he whispered, 'You are beautiful tonight. Even more beautiful under the silk you wear. And I swear by all that is holy that if you give yourself to me, you will not regret it.' He kissed her again, pressing his lips to her cheek, her hair and her neck, and wrapping his arms around her body.

He was warm, and it took away the chill on her back, so she nestled close to him, putting her arms around his waist under his coat. After a time, he whispered, 'Would you help me off with my coat, please?'

It was not such a hard thing to run her hands up his body until they reached his shoulders and to push the wool away from him. The coat fell to the floor. She glanced down at it, ready to bend and pick it up, for it would become wrinkled if they left it in a heap.

But he sighed, 'Unimportant,' against the shell of her ear.

And when he used that tone, it did seem so. He was making her feel as if she was the thing most important to him in the world. She laid her head on his shoulder, and felt how different it was. Now that the coat was gone, she could feel more of the man and less of the tailor. And she felt a strange stirring, as the outlines of his body were uncovered to her.

His hand was on her back, fingers spread to span it, and he rubbed gently, his other hand stroking her neck and her hair. And the buttons of his waistcoat were poking against her chest, so she undid them, one by one, and pushed it out of the way.

His breathing quickened and he kissed her again, running his tongue along the seam in her lips until she opened them again. The taste of him amazed her. It was wine and spice, and she could not seem to get enough of it. When she stopped for breath, she found that they had pushed her gown out of the way, until it hung from her body at the hip, and his waistcoat had followed his coat to the floor.

He looked down, and gave a shaky laugh. 'My valet will be appalled.'

'Oh, dear.' She looked in the direction of the changing room.

He gathered her to him again. 'I am teasing. Do not think of it. We are alone, remember? All alone.' He put his hands on her hips and pushed her dress the rest of the way off her body. 'No one will see. No one will hear. And not a word shall pass from my lips over this.' Then he reached around her and undid the knot of her stays.

She had a moment's fleeting longing for his first suggestion, that they do it quickly without bothering to remove their clothing. It was all getting out of hand, and her thoughts swirled into focus and away again. She would put an end to this. She would stop him, soon. Another minute. Perhaps two. But it felt so wonderful as he worked slowly to lay her bare. And to put her hand on his shoulder and feel muscle through the linen of his shirt was as exciting as feeling his fingers on the small of her back, with a bit of cotton lawn as the only protection. Without thinking, her hand moved on his body, and she could feel the softness of hair, the smoothness of skin and the hard flat nipples on his chest, resting just below her fingertips beneath the fabric.

He smiled at her, and then closed his eyes and sighed. 'Your touch is so gentle. I am not accustomed to gentleness.'

She wondered if he meant that he wished her to be more bold. She surprised herself, for even caring what he wished. There was nothing in their agreement that required her to act, only to submit.

He opened his eyes again. 'Touch me as you wish to be touched, so that I may know what gives you pleasure.' And he mirrored the position of her hands on his body, placing his fingertips against her nipples, but making no effort to do more.

It was maddening. The skin beneath his hands tingled in expectation of his movement, and her nipples peaked as though her body could imagine the brush of his fingers and the increasing roughness of his touch.

His face relaxed into a lazy, seductive smile, and he leaned forward to kiss her, catching her lower lip with his teeth and sucking gently upon it.

Her breast ached in answer to each tug upon her lips, and she moved her hands experimentally over his chest, rubbing her thumbs against him.

In answer, he moved his hands on her, and kissed her again, his tongue tracing designs upon her lips.

Desire stirred within her. That was what she wanted. To feel him touching her, possessing her. She circled, rubbed, palmed and pinched. And he did the same. She pulled away from his kiss and buried her face in his shirt. She pressed her lips to him, licking softly against the linen until it grew wet and clung to his skin. She bit at him, sucking hard, doing her best to draw the little bud into her mouth.

He took a deep breath, and she could hear his heart, so near to her ear, beating faster. His hands on her breasts grew more forceful, tormenting her body as she did his. Then he took them away, and cupped her face, pulling it up to his mouth, and kissing her with the same demanding strength, pushing his tongue into her mouth, thrusting until she could feel the penetration deep within her body. He trailed down her throat, marking her flesh with the force of his kisses until he settled over her breast. He paused for a moment, letting his breath warm her, then took the cloth-covered nipple into his mouth. The sensations grew in her, and she dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, as though she feared that the force of her feelings would rip her away from his body.

When it seemed all but unbearable, he released her and began again on her other breast. She gave a tiny laugh of relief, for she had forgotten that there was still more to feel. The same feeling of expectation was building, compounded with the excited nerves that he had left behind.