Page 67 of Twice Tempted by a Rogue

Once bared, he crossed the room silently and moved to stand behind her at the vanity. There was a mirror there, and she didn’t startle. She must have watched him approach. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pivoted her away from the mirror, not wanting to see his own damaged face staring back at him. She leaned back against him, settling her weight against his bare chest.

Rhys sucked in his breath. He reached his arms around her, and with stiff, clumsy fingers, he yanked at the closures of her traveling jacket.

Sighing, she leaned forward and lowered her arms so he could shake the jacket free. He cast it aside and started on the buttons of her crisp, high-necked chemisette. Her breathing came more quickly now. His fingers worked lower, and lower still, and her breasts rose and fell. As though they were as eager to be displayed as he was to view them.

When he’d eased the last tiny button free, he drew the halves of her chemisette to the sides, baring her creamy neck and chest, her small breasts covered by the frailest layer of muslin and supported by tightly laced stays. The dark valley between her breasts held secrets and suggestions.

“Lovely,” he breathed, moving his hands to the small of her back so he could loosen the knot of her laces. He’d wanted to do this for so long. So many nights he’d lain awake dreaming of it—first on the rocky ground, then on the stony plinth, at last on the wood-planked floor. Every night, he’d tried to ignore the uncomfortable surface beneath his weary bones by filling his mind with thoughts of her. The gentle curves of her body, the exquisite softness of her skin.

And here she stood before him, half bared and fully willing, and he couldn’t work the damn knot. It wasn’t the tightness of the tapes or the limitations of his mangled hands. He was nervous as hell. Unable to make his fingers work, yet impatient to taste her, he bent his head and kissed the side of her throat.

She gasped, letting her head roll to the side.

Taking what she offered, he kissed his way up the elongated slope of her neck. Licking and nibbling at her delicate skin, suckling the tiny pearl of her unadorned earlobe.

“Oh, Rhys,” she sighed, tilting her head back.

The way she moaned for him … it made his blood catch fire.

“Oh my God,” she said, craning her neck a bit more. “Just look at the scrollwork on that ceiling.”

He froze. That was it. She’d just found the cure for his nerves.

“To hell with the damned ceiling,” he growled, tugging angrily at the ends of her laces.

She gave a sharp intake of breath as he momentarily cinched them tight. The knot gave way to him this time, and the stays fell away from her body.

“To the devil with tiles and drapes,” he said, whirling her to face him. He pulled down the neckline of her chemise, ripping it just a little in his effort to expose her breasts.

She swallowed hard, then gasped. Her eyes went wide as she took in the sight of her ruined shift and exposed bosom. Then the sight of him, naked and aroused.

“Close your eyes,” he told her, snaking his hand inside her chemise to palm her breast. He squeezed. “Close your eyes. Stop examining everything. Just feel.”

She obeyed.

He fumbled open the closures of her skirt and pulled it down over her hips. Then he divested her of her petticoats. Garters and stockings too—taking caution and pleasure in rolling the flannel sheaths down her slender, shapely legs.

Then she stood before him in only her chemise, her eyes still closed. He left her for a moment. Tracing a slow circle around the room, he extinguished all but a few candles.

There, much better.

“Rhys?” Her long, dark lashes trembled against her cheeks. “May I open my eyes now? I promise not to speak of tiles or ceilings.”

“Not yet.” With a swift yank, he widened the rent in her chemise until he could draw it over her shoulders and pull it downwards, all the way to the floor.

“That’s two shifts you’ve ruined now,” she joked, curling into herself to hide her nakedness.

“I’ll buy you a dozen more tomorrow, but for tonight …” He gently pulled her arms away from her body. “It’s my turn to admire the most beautiful, exquisitely crafted thing in this suite.”

And he did. He brushed a fall of dark hair away from her breast, pushing it behind her shoulder so it wouldn’t obscure his view. And then he stood back a pace and took a long, unhurried look at her body, from her elegantly turned toes to the arrow-straight part of her dark, shining hair. Tongues of candlelight licked over her pale skin. Her slender arms hung straight at her sides, bracketing the sensuous curves of her breasts and hips. As he watched, the rosy points of her nipples gathered to tight nubs. Between her thighs, a triangle of dark curls and shadow guarded her sex.

He’d never seen a woman so beautiful in his life. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. Rhys simply hadn’t seen all that many unclothed women, and most of those he had seen, he’d purposely triednotto examine too closely. Even so, he’d wager that women of Meredith’s loveliness were rare indeed.

Hell, even if they numbered in the thousands—she was the only one for him.

As he stared, his already-stiff cock hardened further. Until it literally pained him to look at her. Fortunately, life had gifted him with a formidable tolerance for pain.

“Rhys, please,” she said, twisting with impatience. “The water will have gone stone-cold.”

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