Page 100 of Saving Miss Pratt

“No. I mean, yes, I want this—more than anything.” The truth of the words vibrated in her chest.

“Very well.” He closed the door with a click of finality.

For a moment, he merely stood before her. His gaze raked over her, igniting gooseflesh everywhere it touched, driving her mad.

“Are we simply to stand here, then? I was under the impression there was much more involved.”

He laughed at that, the bright crack of sound generating the sensation of a thousand fluttering wings taking flight in her stomach. His laughter ceased, and his expression grew dark and seductive, creating an altogether different, but no less exciting, sensation. Warmth flooded low in her belly.

He strode forward, each leisurely step like a dangerous animal stalking its prey. “If the ultimate goal is to create a lasting memory, rushing seems contradictory, wouldn’t you agree?”

Her gaze darted toward the bed. Was she really going to do this? When she turned back, Timothy stood before her, silent and waiting.

She swallowed her remaining doubts, which, much to her surprise, went down without a struggle. “What should I do?”

An auburn eyebrow quirked. “Do you wish to go? The door is unlocked.”

“No.” She croaked out the word, her throat becoming as dry as the desert. “I wish to . . . take part fully, but I don’t know where to begin. Since this is to be our only time together, I wish to perform to satisfaction.”

If she had learned nothing else at her mother’s knee, it was to strive for perfection at all times. Besides, she hoped that the experience would be memorable for Timothy as well. She would derive a small—possibly unhealthy—satisfaction if she knew Timothy could not so easily forget their time together.

“Ah. Listen to your body, it will tell you what you need to know. Then simply do it, or tell me what you wish me to do.”

“Kiss me again?”

He chuckled, the rich sound warming her like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night. “You don’t sound certain. Is that a command or a question?”

“Kiss me—now.”

Without hesitation, he obeyed, his mouth at first covering her own, then traveling along her jaw, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue, then trailing down the column of her neck.

She shivered with anticipation as he neared the bodice of her gown.

“You didn’t specify where to kiss you”—his teeth nipped at the edge of fabric above her breasts—“so I had better consider all possibilities.”

Listen to your body.Well, she would if anything made sense in her chaotic brain. Yet, her fingers itched to test the silkiness of his hair, and she heeded their instruction, threading them through his thick auburn locks.

She held him in place for a few moments longer, debating her next request.

As he placed hot kisses on a sensitive spot of her throat, wicked images flooded her mind.

The room had suddenly grown uncomfortably warm, and she peeked over at the hearth, expecting to see the once meager flames transformed into a blazing inferno, but naught had changed.

She had on far too many items of clothing. As did he. She remembered the corded muscles of his forearms when she’d watched him at the clinic, and she yearned to see them again.

Filled with confidence, she made her next demand. “Take off your coat.”

He peered up at her, his eyes mirroring her own wicked intentions.

With one hand, he unbuttoned the garment, his gaze never leaving hers, then shrugged out of it, allowing it to drop carelessly to the floor.

Although she found it quite enticing to watch him disrobe, she reminded herself she wanted to participate fully. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached for his cravat. Her fingers worked the intricate knot, untying, unwrapping until it draped loosely over his shoulders and down his chest, leaving his shirt gaping seductively at the neck. “Your valet is quite talented.”

“I’ll send him your compliments.” His lips quirked up at one corner.

She grasped each end of the neckcloth and pulled him toward her. “Kiss me again.”

“My, you are bossy.” And yet he complied forthwith, most satisfactorily so.

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