Page 27 of To Marry and to Meddle
“Helpful?” Emily repeated breathlessly. “I—I like to be helpful.”
“I’ve noticed,” he murmured, kissing the opposite corner.
“In that case,” she said, and with a sudden rush of boldness she slid her hands into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his mouth back to hers, and she kissed him—and she was the one doing the kissing this time, not the other way around. It was she who snaked her free hand around his waist, keeping him pressed tightly to her, and she who darted her tongue out to trace at the seam of his lips. She feltdaring and wanton and not at all like herself—but perhaps like a new version of herself, a new Emily whom she could come to recognize just as well, with time.
She drew back after a moment, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, the blue of his eyes all that she could see.
“Your eyes,” she said idiotically, “are so blue.”
The eyes in question crinkled at the corners as he smiled. She liked those crinkles—she’d noticed them several times over the past couple of days, and wondered that she had never noticed them before that.
“So are yours,” he said.
“No.” She shook her head vehemently, feeling more of her hair escape from what was left of her braid. “Not like yours.”
“If you say so.” He sounded skeptical and amused, and as though this were not, perhaps, the most interesting conversation they could be having at that particular moment.
“Surely some other lady has told you that,” Emily said, huffing in indignation.
“I’m not terribly interested in discussing other ladies at the moment,” he murmured, leaning forward to give her a long, lingering kiss.
A moment later, she broke away, laughing. “I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m not lying,” he said, and there was something almost…annoyedin his voice. “I’m not trying to flatter you when I say that I don’t have any interest in talking about, or thinking about, anyone other than you right now.”
Emily looked at him, her arm still locked around his neck, and in that moment… she believed him.
Truth be told, she didn’t want to think about anyone else, either. All she wanted to do was cast herself into the heat building between them, and see where it took her.
So, very deliberately, she stepped back, locked her eyes directly on his, and began to wriggle out of her dress.
And then, just as quickly, realized that she had never undressed herself before.
She paused, befuddled. This was ridiculous. She was twenty-three years old—surely she could take a dress off! And yet—
Apparently, no.
Julian watched her, heat and amusement mingling in his gaze. “Having trouble?” he asked.
Emily flushed. “I just realized that I’ve never done this alone before,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize quite how reliant on my maid I was.” She began to tug at her bodice, attempting to lift it over her head. “This is absurd,” she said, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face.
“Some assistance?” he asked, and really, she had no choice but to accept, given her current circumstances. It took him a matter of moments to extricate her from her gown and toss it aside—with a man’s typical disregard for any of the wrinkles that might have caused, she thought—and then he stepped back, eyeing the sight of her in her corset and chemise with frank appreciation.
“I know I’ll need help with this bit,” she said, and turned her back to him. There was a moment of silence, and then a rustle of fabric as Julian stepped forward, then the feeling of his fingers at her back, loosening her corset. She almost, in her nervousness, made some joke about his past experience with this task, but she recalled that unidentifiable look in his eye a minute earlier, and this recollection stilled hertongue. Instead, she was achingly conscious of the sound of her own breaths, coming more quickly now, as his hands moved whisper-soft down her spine. In a few moments more the garment was loose, and she instinctively clasped her hands to her chest, keeping the corset clutched close to her, before a moment later realizing how absurd this was and letting it fall to the floor.
She turned in Julian’s arms and he was there, meeting her, his mouth hungry on hers, his hand moving up to cup her breast through the fine fabric of her chemise, the other sliding down to her hip. She could feel him hard against her stomach, and—thanks to more than one educational conversation with her friends—knew what this meant.
He began walking her backward in the direction of the bed, until she felt the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress and she sank down onto it, pulling him down next to her without breaking their kiss. A moment later, however, he leaned back and reached a hand up to cup her cheek.
“I think you should know that I’ve never done this before,” he informed her solemnly.
And Emily, with all the poise and tact that came so naturally to her, said, “What?”
Seeing her incredulous expression, he quickly added, “Not—not theact, I didn’t mean that. Obviously, I’ve gone to bed with someone before.”
“I should hope so!” she said, relief washing over her, though she was still not certain she’d entirely recovered from her momentary shock. “Your reputation would have been quite appallingly inflated otherwise. Besides,” she added, “I rather think at least one of us should know what they’re doing.”
“That’s the problem, though,” Julian said, looking the slightest bit uneasy. “I’ve never—what I meant was, I’ve never done this with a virgin before.”
