Page 98 of Oddity of the Ton
“No, my Eleanor,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “Do not close your eyes—not tome.”
But though she willed her courage to rise, it faltered at the notion of him looking into her eyes…into her soul.
“Eleanor…”
His soft whisper crawled into her mind, enveloping it in a tender embrace.
“You must look at me tonight,” he whispered. “Only then will I know you’ve given me your consent—and your trust.”
She clung to him as he moved forward and placed her on the bed. Then she drew in a sharp breath and opened her eyes.
Heavens!This was happening—reallyhappening…
He caressed her cheek, and she met his gaze, steeling herself to withstand the intensity of his sapphire eyes.
“That’s it, my darling,” he whispered. Then he claimed her lips. She parted them, and he slipped his tongue inside, sweeping across her mouth in slow, tender caresses.
He lowered his hand, running delicate fingertips along her neck, across her throat, until he reached her neckline. Then he dipped his hand inside her gown. The first flush of shame disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a tiny pulse of pleasure that swelled inside her body as he curled his fingers to cup her breast.
“Do you take pleasure when I touch you, Eleanor?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good…very good…” He caressed the skin of her breast, moving his fingertips in ever-tightening circles until he reached the peak at the center—the little nub of flesh that had grown hard at his touch. Then he flicked it with his thumb, and she drew in a sharp breath at the fizz of pleasure. He claimed her mouth, silencing the cry in the throat.
“Mmm…” he murmured, his body vibrating against hers. “Are you taking pleasure from my attentions, Miss Howard?”
“It’s lovely, Your Grace.”
He withdrew his hand. “Must you disappoint me already?”
“D-disappoint?”
“I told you to call me Montague.” He caught her chin and tipped it up. “May I undress you, Eleanor?”
Heat flooded her cheeks at so bold a request.
“I-I…” She hesitated, and he placed another kiss on her lips.
“You’ve no idea how much I relish the notion of tossing your skirts up and claiming you this very moment,” he said. “But I promised to make love to you—not rut you. When we make love, I want there to be nothing between us. To be naked, in the arms of another—it’s supposed to be the most glorious experience, and I want to share it with you.”
“Supposedto be? D-don’t you know?”
“No, my Eleanor,” he said. “Inthat, if nothing else, tonight will bemyfirst time.”
If nothing else…
Once again, she was reminded of all the women he must have bedded—that she was merely the latest in a long line of conquests.
“Eyes on me, Eleanor,” he said, his voice sharp. “Now—may I undress you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Deftly, he removed her gown, unlacing her stays until only chemise and stockings remained. She held her breath as he lifted her chemise over her head. Then he sat before her, hunger glittering in his eyes.
His gaze wandered over her naked body, until she could almost feel his touch. Then he smiled.
“A man is said to feast with his eyes before he tastes the dish placed before him.”
