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Daphne adjusted her sister’s navy cloak and pulled it closer about her face. She’d pilfered it from the room where the footman had stored it, and she didn’t feel guilty because she’d return it tomorrow. The cloak’s dark color hid her hair and dress. She didn’t want to be seen by the carriages passing the duke’s residence, and the best way to avoid notice was to travel along the lane in the back where the mews were located. She moved toward the back of the house and was in the midst of the servants’ yard, where laundry was hung to dry and rugs were beaten, when a loud yip rent the air. Daphne turned to find Pugsly hunched low and with his fur bristling.
“Pugsly,” she hissed. “It’s me. Daphne.”
Pugsly’s head cocked to the side, but when she moved closer to him, he backed away and yipped in warning.
“Pugsly! Shh!” Daphne lowered the hood of the cloak, and seeing her face, Pugsly straightened and trotted to her. Daphne petted him, obliging him when he rolled over to have his tummy scratched. Then she rose. “Quiet, boy. Sit.”
Pugsly sat, blinking at her with those big, dark eyes. Daphne pulled the cloak back over her hair and started again toward the mews. She’d lost precious time, but if she hurried, she would still be able to escape before anyone realized she was gone. The men would spend at least another quarter hour with their port and then they would join the ladies. Even then, they would have no reason to question that Daphne was ill. No one would come and check on her for at least another hour.
She had plenty of time to make it to St. James and the gambling hells. There she would find a game of vingt-et-un or piquet, both card games she knew well and almost always won, and would win enough money to hold Battersea off for another week or so. She didn’t know what she would do after that. She’d given him her pin money and pawned all her jewelry worth anything. But she’d paid the last of debt late, and he’d charged her interest—an exorbitant amount of interest she could never hope to pay, even if she won heaps in St. James’s hells. And every day she was late on the interest, he added more.
She’d think of something. She had to because the alternative...
She opened the back gate, slipped through it, and shut it behind her, leaning against it with relief. She reached into a pocket of the cloak and withdrew the silver filigreed half mask. She’d intended to wear it to hide her identity. She wished she had a dress to wear that was not pink or a wig to hide her hair, but there was nothing for it. Anyone who knew her would still recognize her. At least the mask would allow her to pretend she was not Lady Daphne, even if the ruse fooled no one.
Lowering her hood, she placed the mask over her face and caught hold of the black silk ribbons on the side, pulling them behind her head to secure the mask. But it slipped and she had to position it again then fumble with the ribbons.
“Allow me to assist you,” came a masculine voice from behind her.
“Thank y—” Daphne whirled around, praying she would see one of the grooms there. But she knew even before she saw him who it would be.
Colin FitzRoy.
She stared at him then looked back toward the house, whose windows were still lit up. She could even see shadows moving about behind the lighted windows of the drawing room.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked, stepping out of the shadows.
“How long have you been there?”
“Not long.” His gaze traveled down her body, taking in the cloak. “You were almost safely away.” His eyes lingered on the mask she still held. “Going to a ball?”
“Yes,” she said, grasping onto the idea as though she were drowning and the suggestion was a rope. “I must have forgotten to mention the invitation I received to the masked ball.”
“Did you forget to mention it to your mother as well?” He took the mask from her hand and studied it. “She seems to think you are in bed with a headache.” He made a circling motion with his finger, and since she couldn’t immediately think of a reply to his last statement, she gave him her back. He moved closer, the heat of him warming her through the thick woolen cloak. His arms came over her head, and he secured the mask over her eyes and the upper part of her face. Trailing his fingers along her temples, he tied the ribbons behind her head and knotted them tightly. He took her by the shoulders and moved her to face him. His gaze bore into her for so long that she finally looked away.
“Will I do?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Where are we really going?”
“I am going to a ball.”
“If we were really attending a ball, you would do nicely. But if you actually need to hide your identity, you’re wasting your time.”
She was caught as surely as a fish who had eaten the worm. She could feel herself dangling above safety, gasping for her last breaths.
“Are you ready to tell me the truth yet?”
“Why? So you can lecture and berate me?”
His green eyes narrowed, the only indication he was concerned. “Will lecturing and berating help the matter?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll save that for another time.”
Daphne touched the mask, the delicate pattern pressing into the flesh of her face. She would have to tell him something. She couldn’t avoid it now.
“Go on,” he said, his tone that of a parent scolding a child. “It’s easier if you say it quickly.”
“Odious man.” Why were men always shouldering their way in where they were not wanted? At least this particular man was not telling her to go inside and finish her embroidery. She might as well tell him. She could always try for St. James’s again later tonight.
“I need money,” she said.
His expression didn’t change. “Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Probably.”
“I just need it. I was planning to go to one of the gaming hells on St. James’s Street and win at cards.”
Colin stared at her for a long moment as though waiting for her to say more. “You’re actually serious,” he finally said. “This was your plan.” He indicated the mask and the cloak with a wave of his hand. “You thought to waltz into a gaming hell, play a few hands of Loo—”
“Piquet.”
“Even worse—and walk out with a fortune?”
Annoyed now, she stuck her hands on her hips. “And what’s wrong with that? I’m a good card player. I could beat you.”
“Do you know anything about these gaming hells you think to fleece? They would not stay in business if the players won.”
Daphne shook her head in disbelief. “You mean they cheat?”
“Not the more reputable ones, but you wouldn’t gain entrance to any of those. You have to pay for a membership, and ladies are not admitted. You’d only be allowed in the worst sort of places, and you’d be cheated blind. After that, you’d probably be accosted.”
“I’m prepared for that.”
His brow rose, and to prove her point, she reached into an inner pocket of her dress and pulled out a gold bouquet holder encrusted with jewels.
Colin looked at the small ornament. “You’ll present your attacker with flowers?”
“No.” She pulled off the end of the handle to reveal a dagger. “This was my grandmother’s, passed down to me.”
“Why the hell did your grandmother have a knife hidden in a bouquet holder?”
“She was in France during their revolution. She needed a way to defend herself when she fled the guillotine.”
“And you intend to do what with that?” He gestured toward the sharp point. “Stab a man?”
“I could.”
His mouth thinned.
“I could!” she insisted. “If my life depended on it.”
“Stab me then.” He stepped closer to her.
“What? No.” She stepped back.
“I’m an attacker. Stab me.” He said opening his arms wide.
“Stop it.”
He lunged toward her. Startled, she brought the bouquet holder up sharply.
“Good. Now do it.”
“I can’t!”
“Do it!”
“Fine.” She sliced at him, intending to make a shallow cut, but he moved more quickly than she’d anticipated, feinted to the left, reached out, and snatched the bouquet holder from her hand. He tossed it aside then pushed her up against the gate, his arm across her chest.
She gasped in outrage. “Those are real rubies you just tossed to the ground!”
“You should be worried about more than rubies. It took me all of ten seconds to relieve you of your weapon. What will you do now?”
“Release me,” she said in her most authoritative voice.
“I’m an attacker, Daphne, not a gentleman.”
“Then I’d fight you.” Her gaze met his, and she felt a little shiver of pleasure at his closeness.
“You’d lose. I’m stronger than you.”
She nodded. She could feel his power in the press of his leg against hers and the firmness of his arm across her upper chest. “You’ve made your point.”
“I hardly believe that. As soon as I let you go, you’ll wait until you think I’m gone and try again.”
He knew her better than she thought. They stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily, his body pressed against hers. She wasn’t thinking about gambling any longer. Her body was tingling, and her throat had gone dry. “Colin?”
He made a sound like a grunt.
“What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. I’m considering my options.” His voice was low and ragged.
“So am I.”
“I don’t suppose one of them is to go inside and go straight to bed.”
“No.” She shook her head slightly.
“Is one to tell me more about this money you owe?”
“No.” She wet her lips. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and a stab of hot desire speared through her belly.
“I’m out of ideas,” he murmured.
“I’m not.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. His arm was still pinning her shoulders to the wall, and she couldn’t raise her hands to touch him, but he didn’t move away. He held perfectly still while her lips caressed his with feather-light touches. “Lower your arm,” she said, her own voice low and breathy. She couldn’t seem to take in enough oxygen.
His arm dropped, and she was suddenly free. She had not thought he would actually do as she asked. She moved closer to him. He didn’t move, not even when she ran her hands up his chest and then high enough to knock off his hat. She could see his face more clearly now. See that dark hair she always wanted to touch. She curled her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and tugged his head down. He could have easily resisted, but he went willingly. They both hesitated for a moment, and then she couldn’t hold back. Her lips collided with his. As soon as their mouths touched, heat rushed through her. The cloak was too warm, her clothing too tight, the distance between them too great. She moved closer, flicking his lips with her tongue until he opened for her. She kissed him deeper, wondering if he would stop her. He hadn’t kissed her back.
But then her tongue slid against his, and he made a sound like a low growl. She was suddenly thrust against the gate again. His hands were on either side of her head, and his lips were doing things to her that she had never imagined. She was dizzy with pleasure and only vaguely aware that she was making small mewling noises.
“You like that.” His mouth trailed to her neck, and he bestowed kisses there then bit her earlobe gently.
Daphne felt her legs go weak as heat surged straight into her lower belly. Who was this man? She’d never seen him show even an ounce of emotion and now here was passion so hot she could hardly remain upright.
His lips moved down to her shoulder, where the cloak covered her skin. She wished she could throw it off. She wanted his lips on more of her skin. His hands moved under the cloak as he kissed her neck. She felt them on her waist as they moved slowly higher.
“Yes,” she murmured. Her breasts ached to be touched. All of her ached at that moment.
But instead of easing that need, he stepped back.
She opened her eyes. “What?” She could barely speak; she was panting so hard. He was out of breath too. His chest rose and fell as though he’d been running. He jerked his head to the left, and she saw two footmen walking toward the mews. They were having a discussion and hadn’t spotted her and Colin yet, but they would in another moment.
And they were her father’s men. She knew the livery.
Colin seemed to know exactly what to do. He reached down for his hat, took her hand, then pulled her along the garden wall until they were standing in deep shadow. “We’ll wait until they’re gone,” he whispered.
Daphne nodded, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when the footmen had gone back inside. What were they waiting to do? Would he kiss her again? Ravish her? Make her go back inside? Take her to St. James’s Street?
She wanted to ask but didn’t dare make any noise. The footmen were too close now, and they’d reached the mews. One went inside, and she heard him speaking to the groom. The FitzRoys wanted their carriage.
She glanced at Colin, but he was already looking at her. Heat boiled up in her again, the desire that came with it was so strong she had to bite her lips to stop herself from making a sound. His eyes, though too dark to see well, seemed to glitter. She moved then, careful to stay in the shadows as she pushed him against the garden wall.
He gave her a warning look, but she wasn’t deterred. She leaned forward, cupped the back of his neck, and kissed him hard. He responded immediately, kissing her back and pulling her roughly against him. She’d never felt anything like this before. Sparks seemed to ignite each time their lips touched, and she was almost surprised not to see them flare in the darkness.
Finally, when her breathing had grown so ragged that she feared she was too loud, he pulled her against his chest and held her there. She could hear his heart hammering as fast as her own. So the man was not completely without emotions. How she longed to incite them again. She liked this side of him.
“I have to get you out of here,” he said, low enough so only she could hear.
She nodded, eager to go with him. She’d been afraid he would tell her to go back inside. She was prepared to tell him she’d only go to her chamber if he came too.
He pulled her hood up then tugged her along the narrow alley, making her walk so quickly she almost had to run. Stones in the street jabbed into her feet and she hissed with pain. She tugged on his arm to dislodge a stone, and he looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”
“My shoes.” She lifted the hem of her skirts to show the thin slippers she wore.
Colin stared at her as though she were a complete imbecile. “I’ll hail a hackney,” he said.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they stepped out onto the street just a little way down from her father’s town house. She looked in that direction, watching as the FitzRoys’ grooms calmed the horses standing on the street outside. Any minute the FitzRoys themselves would come out.
“Somewhere we can talk,” he said, raising a hand to a hackney whose driver immediately turned his horse toward them.
“I told you I want to go to St. James’s Street,” she protested.
He cut her a glance. “I’ll take you later. If you still want to go.”
The hackney stopped, and he opened the door for her. As she climbed in, she heard him give the driver the Duke of Mayne’s address.
***
MAYNE’S TOWN HOUSE was only a short distance, but Colin didn’t trust himself. He sat opposite Daphne and made a point not to look at her. What the devil was she about, kissing him like that on a public street? What was he about, kissing her back? Given about three more minutes, he would have had her half-undressed. Every time he saw her, his appetite was whetted. Now he was practically ravenous for her.
The difficult thing was that even though she was his wife, taking her to bed wasn’t that simple. It would be the start of something—and he was none too certain what exactly that something might be. What were the rules? What would she want from him?
He knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted, but somehow he doubted that orgasm after orgasm after orgasm was all she was after.
But perhaps he could make her forget that if he got her into bed.
And wasn’t that exactly why he was taking her to Mayne’s house? Because he wanted her alone?
He shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Obviously, she was watching him.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you taking me to the duke’s house?”
“Because we can talk privately there,” he said. That was what he had to remember. That he needed to talk to her. Needed to find out what had made her desperate enough that she was willing to put on a disguise and risk the gaming hells on St. James’s Street.
“And what if I have nothing more to say?” She rose, and he realized she intended to move to sit beside him. He pointed at her.
“Stay where you are.”
She cocked her head. “Why? Afraid you’ll kiss me again?”
He didn’t answer. That was it exactly, but he didn’t have to admit it.
“All these years I thought you didn’t want me. That’s not really true, is it?”
Colin gave her a sharp look. “Why would you think that?” But as soon as the words were out, he realized it was a stupid question. And he was a stupid man. How had he never considered what his avoidance of their marriage might mean to her? Of course, she would think he didn’t want her.
“I suppose because on our wedding night you were so...perfunctory.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t know what I was doing.” The words came out somewhat choked. It was not as easy an admission as he made it sound.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why not just say that? I was nervous as well.”
“I was not nervous.” He’d been terrified.
She gave him a long look, but he wasn’t backing down.
Finally, she sighed. Heavily. “No. You aren’t ever nervous. I’m sure you never feel any of the normal human emotions.”
“Forgive me if I don’t want to spend hours talking about my feelings.”
“Then you admit you have them?”
“I’m feeling one right now.” The annoyance in his tone should have quieted her, but the woman was relentless.
“And I daresay you were feeling something when we were near the mews. Is that the extent of your repertoire then? Impatience and lust?”
“You’ve forgotten frustration.”
“Ooh, I rather like that one.” She pushed her hood off her hair and undid the fastening at her neck. Sliding the cloak off, she revealed the dress she’d been wearing at the dinner party. His gaze went immediately to the bow under her breasts. “Is it hot in here?” she asked, watching him.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” She tugged at the fingers of her gloves.
“We will be there in a moment. Don’t take anything else off.” His mouth spoke the words, but his body was not in agreement. His cock was hard and stiff, and his mouth was practically dry at the thought of seeing her bare arms. Which was ridiculous. He had seen much more than a woman’s bare arms before. He might have honored his wedding vows and resisted temptation all these years. But even if he didn’t touch, that didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes look. And there were usually plenty of women who were eager to lure him to their beds.
Daphne tugged at another finger of her glove then another until the top slid down, revealing the pale skin just above her elbow. She pulled gently on the white silk until a fraction more of her soft flesh was revealed. He meant to look away, but he couldn’t seem to stop watching as inch after inch of her arm was revealed to him.
Colin shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. He felt like a boy again. He was hot and flushed from the mere glimpse of cleavage. Daphne pulled the rest of the glove off, revealing long, thin fingers. “That’s better,” she said. She looked at him, her blue eyes glowing with mischief behind the mask she still wore. Oh, she knew exactly what she was about. “Will you hold this for me?” She tossed it to him, and he caught the glove mid-air.
“No more,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Why not?” She tugged at the other glove, and it slid down quite easily. He watched its progress over the inner skin of her elbow, and he wondered how she tasted there, if she was sensitive in that spot, what she would do if he teased her with his tongue right where the glove had been.
The glove lowered further, dragging his gaze down with it.
“Feeling anything new?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.
He didn’t answer.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come sit beside you? You look a little frustrated.”
That was an understatement, but thankfully the hackney slowed and the jarvey called out their destination. Colin jumped to his feet, opened the door, and gulped in the night air. The hackney hadn’t felt warm when he’d first climbed inside.
He held out his hand to assist the now cloakless and gloveless Lady Daphne. Colin tried not to notice her bare shoulders and arms, encased only in a thin, gauzy material that was certainly more for show than function. He tossed the jarvey a handful of coins and started up the walkway just as Mayne’s butler opened the door.
“Good evening, Mr. FitzRoy. Lady Daphne.” Banks greeted them as though he had been expecting them. “Would you like to join the others in the drawing room?”
Colin halted. “Others? Is Mayne back?”
“No, sir. But Mr. Fortescue and Mr. Murray have stopped in.”
“Not the Scot,” Daphne murmured, but it was too late. Duncan was already on the stairs.
“Just the lass I wanted to see,” he said, coming down a few steps. He took in her mask and paused. “I dinnae ken there was a masque tonight. Let me find something to wear, and I’ll join you.”
“We didn’t come looking for you,” Colin said.
Duncan folded his arms over his chest. “I must say, yer lass is doing a puir job of finding me a bride.”
“Is this your wife, FitzRoy?”
Colin blew out a breath. Now they had Stratford and Duncan to contend with. “Lady Daphne, may I present—”
“Mr. Fortescue,” she said. “We know each other, of course. How is your cousin?”
“Unfortunately, she has a sniffle tonight,” he said, not looking the least bit troubled by that fact. “Else I would be squiring her about.”
Daphne gestured to Duncan. “Why not introduce her to Mr. Murray? He is looking for a bride.”
Duncan held up a hand. “I’m beginning to think matchmaking is nae your forte, lass. My mother won’t have a woman like Fortescue’s cousin.” He lowered his voice. “She’s far too mannish.”
“I say, Murray.” Stratford turned on him. “She’s as much a lady as any other. She just has ideas.”
“Why would I want a bride with ideas?”
“Yes, by all means, marry a witless girl,” Daphne said, her voice full of exasperation. “I do not know why I am even here. I have somewhere more important to be.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Colin grasped her arm. Her bare arm. God, had he ever felt skin so soft? “Lady Daphne and I have a matter to discuss,” he told his friends.
“What aboot the masque?” Duncan asked.
Stratford put his arm about Duncan’s shoulders. “Not tonight, friend.” He called down to Colin. “We’ll be in the drawing room for at least another hour or so.” He winked.
Daphne blew out a breath. “Really. Don’t you men have a club or something?”
“We do, actually. Banks, I believe we will use the parlor again.”
“Yes, sir. Would you like wine?”
“No.” Colin ushered Daphne into the parlor, closing the door behind him. The fire had already been lit, as though he had been anticipated. Daphne went immediately to one of the green chairs and sat.
“Will this take long?” she asked. “I have a gaming hell to visit.”
Colin went to the hearth and leaned against the mantel. “I told you I’d take you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Surely there is some condition.”
“Take off your mask,” he said.
She frowned, clearly surprised at his words. But he couldn’t see her face as well with it in place, and he wanted to be able to read her expression.
“Why?”
“Nevermind. I will do it for you.” He moved behind her low-backed chair and loosed the silk ribbons. She caught the mask and set it on the table beside her.
“That actually feels much better,” she said. “I hadn’t realized it was sticking to my skin. And my head really is beginning to ache.” She reached up and pressed a hand into her tight coiffure.
“Take it down then,” he said, his voice far lower than he would have liked. Her hand stilled, and he saw her slight shiver. “Allow me.” He took hold of a pin that was already out of place and plucked it out. One lone curl descended, and he moved closer, bending to kiss the spot it grazed. Daphne inhaled sharply as his lips brushed against the back of her neck.
Slowly, he rose and studied her silvery hair again. He plucked out another pin and then another and more hair tumbled down to the middle of her back. He unwrapped a coil of it and she let out a soft moan and rolled her neck. Seeing no more pins, Colin brushed her hair back off her face and threaded his hands through the thick mass. He found her scalp and gently massaged.
Daphne made a sound of unmistakable pleasure. She let her neck fall back, and he pressed against her temples. Her eyes closed, and he tried very hard not to look down the front of her gown. He moved his hands, massaging the base of her neck, and her head fell forward.
“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked, her voice thick with pleasure.
He didn’t think mentioning a brothel in Spain was wise. “Here and there,” he said, then moved her hair to the side and stared at the delicate flesh of the back of her neck. He bent and placed a kiss there, and her hand came up cupping him around the base of his neck. She turned her face and kissed him full on the lips. Colin’s hands landed on her shoulders as her mouth moved against his. He slid his palms down to the silk of her gown, feeling the ridges of the fabric-covered buttons securing the gown. His fingers felt big and clumsy on the small round buttons, but he managed to loosen one and then another.
Daphne stopped kissing him and pulled back, her vivid blue eyes meeting his. He didn’t mistake the desire in her eyes. He knew she saw it in his own, and he knew that this was a sure way to entangle himself further with him.
But there was no altering course now. It would happen tonight or another night, and he would have to find a way to deal with the emotions that came with their lovemaking. They were married, and he couldn’t escape her forever.
Nor did he want to.
He undid another button and the fabric of her bodice slid down, revealing the pale pink of her stays. His gaze slid there and to the flesh that had been lifted by the undergarment. The bow beneath her breasts was still in place, which meant he had only a glimpse of the top of her breasts. But it was enough. He moved around the chair and knelt before her. She stared at him, watching to see what he would do next, her breath coming quickly. He reached out, fingered the bow, ran the soft material through his hands, then yanked. It came loose, and the bodice dipped lower, revealing the lacy stays with a pink bow right between her breasts. He couldn’t remove the stays. Not without taking the rest of the garment off and then unhooking the undergarment. It was all a froth of silks and muslin to him, and he’d probably never get her back into it if he managed to get her out. But he told himself this was enough. He only wanted to look at her, and perhaps taste.
He put his hands on her knees and opened her legs. She resisted for just a moment then allowed it. Her skirts gave way as he slid between her legs and took her face in his hands.
Her breath was audible now, hitching in her throat. “Kiss me,” she ordered him.
He did. He kissed her long and hard and until she was whimpering for more. When he drew back so they could both catch their breath, she closed her legs about his waist, keeping him in place. He gave her a long look then drew a line from her swollen lips to her chin, down over her throat. She shivered and arched back, and he couldn’t resist. He pressed his mouth to the half-moons of her breasts, inhaling her sweet, tart scent and feeling the silky skin against his lips.
Her hands threaded through his hair as he kissed her warm flesh. He tugged at her stays, managing to free first one rosy nipple then another. Colin drew in a breath, certain he would never be able to look at her dresses in the same way. Her aureoles were pale pink while her nipples were a dusty rose. He ran his tongue over one and watched as her skin pebbled. Her hands in his hair tightened and he took the hard bud in his mouth, sucking lightly.
Daphne moaned and arched, giving him more access. He teased and licked before moving to the other nipple. While his mouth worked, his hands dove between them, inching up her skirts. When he reached the tie of her garters, above her knee, she jerked at the feel of his bare hands on her leg. She pushed back, giving him a lovely view of her upthrust breasts. Her gaze drifted down to where his hand made a small hill under the fabric of her gown.
“Unlock your knees,” he murmured, stroking the knee she had clamped at his waist. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
He thought she might argue or protest, but she released him, her eyes glittering with interest. His hand slid higher, over skin so soft and smooth he would have sworn it was the most expensive silk. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he watched her face, enjoying the way her lips parted when his fingers brushed over the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said, leaning forward and kissing one breast. His heart pounded with desire and alarm at what he’d just admitted. If he opened himself a little, would she wedge her fingers in and pry him open all the way? He wanted her enough to risk it. “I’ve been told there’s a small nub that will bring you pleasure. But I’m not certain I can find it.” His tongue slaked over the hard point of her nipple. “Will you help me?” Those last words were the hardest. His throat had closed, and he’d had to force them out.
“Yes,” she breathed on a moan, not seeming to notice the difficulty he had even with this small admission.
His hand slid higher, cupping her. She was hot and pushed against his hand, her slick flesh sliding easily against his fingers. “Is this it?” he asked, parting her outer folds.
“No,” she whispered.
He stroked her, finding her opening and pausing. “Here?”
“Colin,” she breathed, her sex tensing against his hand. He slid higher, and he didn’t need to ask if he’d found the spot. She jumped, and her eyes flew open to meet his.
“Here?” he asked, sliding one wet finger over the small bud.
“Please,” she moaned, moving against his hand. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her chest heaving. He had never seen a more perfect image in his life, and he would never forget how ravishing she looked in that moment. He’d taken a risk, and the benefit had been priceless. His thumb circled her, and she threw her head back. “Yes. Oh, don’t stop.”
He should tell her to lower her voice, but truthfully, he wanted more. She sounded so husky and raw. He watched her reaction, learning what she liked and responded to. When she cried out and grasped the arms of the chair, he knew he’d brought her pleasure.
The only question was what would happen when it faded.