Page 73 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
She looked out one window, then the other. Glanced up at the ceiling. Released a long slow breath. “Is it not enjoyable for women?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I asked that of you.”
“It’s the ale. It tends to loosen one’s tongue.” He grinned. “I like it when your tongue is loosened.”
“Oh.” Her gaze was focused so intently on him that he thought she might be boring into his soul. “Is your tongue loosened enough to provide the answer?”
Maybe hers was a bit too loosened. “I could demonstrate.”
“The remainder of my body would have to be loosened for that to happen. Is that why you gave me ale, hoping I would lose all my inhibitions and my moral compass so that you might take advantage?”
“Not exactly. I wouldn’t bed you if you were foxed. There would be no enjoyment for either of us in a situation such as that.”
“So women can enjoy bedding?”
“If the gentleman is the considerate sort.”
“Are you?” Again her hand covered her mouth, her eyes widened. “The words seem to come out before I even realize what they’re going to be.”
The conversation could become very interesting if he handled it just right. “I am given to believe women find pleasure in my bed.”
“Will you go see someone after you deliver me home?”
He needed to. His body was aching with need, and yet he knew any encounter would be unsatisfactory. “No.”
She glanced down at her hands, knotted in her lap. “I’m feeling a bit light-headed.”
He stiffened, straightened. “Are you going to be ill?”
“No. I just have all these thoughts that don’t want to stay where they belong.”
“You can tell them to me. I won’t tell a soul.”Tell me something about Kipwick that I can use, that will speed things along.
“It’s a confession of sorts.”
Even better. His gut tightened at the thought of her revealing her fantasies.
“I wanted to touch your beard, that first night, when we met.”
He almost laughed aloud. He’d been envisioning sins worthy of an afterlife spent burning in hell.
“I didn’t even think to do it while we were kissing the other night,” she said. “I was so absorbed by the kiss.”
“Surely you felt it around your mouth.”
She finally looked up at him. “I did a little. It was softer than I thought, but I was focused on other things. I wanted my fingers to touch it.”
Leaning forward, he pried her hands apart, took one of them in his. “I propose a trade. You can touch my beard, and I’ll kiss the tip of your nose.”
“My nose? You can’t be serious.”
“I adore it. And if I ever meet that obnoxious cousin of yours, I’m going to flatten his nose against his face.”
She laughed. “Well, then, I do hope you cross paths with the Earl of Eames someday.”
So did he. “Are you agreeable to the terms of the trade I proposed?”
Even in the shadows, he saw her nod. “Don’t do anything,” he ordered as he gently returned her hand to her lap. Quickly, he yanked off his gloves before loosening the buttons on hers and slowly tugging it off. In spite of his best intentions, he couldn’t stop himself from tracing a figure eight over the back of her hand. So smooth, like polished marble—only warm, not cold. Warm and fetching. Turning her hand over, he glided three fingers along her palm. The same smoothness greeted him. He wanted that luxurious silkiness against more than his fingers, more than his beard. He wanted it everywhere.
With the back of her hand nestled in the palm of his, he slowly carried her hand to his jaw where her fingers flexed before combing through the coarse strands. The gentle touch nearly undid him. Keeping his hand over hers, he leaned in farther, filling his lungs with her fragrance as his lips landed lightly against the adorable imperfect tip of her nose.
