Wrap those shapely legs around his neck, lift her, open her thighs, and taste her. Tease her until she moaned his name.
His real name.
“You have a look of fierce concentration on your face, Dane. What are you imagining?”
“The next item on the list.”
“So you do recall the wicked list.”
“I do.” Voice hoarse, mouth dry, palms sweating.Retreat! Get out of this bed. Go sleep in the stables.
“I’ve been thinking about the next item ever since you whispered those naughty, unexpected words in my ear. You said...” She faced him, looking into his eyes, fearless and beautiful with her hair unbound, the curve of her breasts visible beneath the thin muslin of her shift. “You said you wanted to spread my thighs and hold them open while you slid your tongue into my secret places.”
Jesus God. Had he actually said that to an innocent young lady in the gardens of a notorious pleasure salon?
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Oh, but you did. And ever since you said those words, I’ve been wondering exactly what you meant.”
“I think you know what I meant.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. There’s only one way to be sure.”
The look in her eyes was pure temptation. Shewanted him as badly as he wanted her. And if they didn’t go too far, he could be the one to pleasure her, to satisfy her fantasies and wonderings.
“Show me, Dane,” she whispered.
And he stopped fighting himself. He could deny her nothing.
She wanted gentle explorations. He would worship her body with a light, reverential touch. It was all about her. Coupling was usually a wild tangled chaotic experience. This would be different. Tonight he was painting a portrait of a young lady on the verge of a sensual awakening. A woman who wanted to fully own her body and the pleasure it could give her.
She lay back, trusting, smiling, anticipating.
He lifted her arms and tugged her chemise over her head. She shifted her hair to hide her breasts and covered the joining of her thighs with her hand, squirming uncomfortably.
He gently moved her hair away from her breasts and her hand away from her sex. He moved to stand beside the bed. “Let me look at you.”
He drank in the sight of her, the generous breasts, small waist, curve of her belly, rounded, dimpled thighs, the curls between her legs, the trim ankles. He traced a meandering line from her shoulder between her breasts over her navel and down one of her thighs. “You’re beautiful. So damned lovely it’s physically painful to look at you. I’ll make it so good for you, Sandrine. Let me do all the work. Lie back and relax.”
He skimmed his hands over her throat, her breasts, the lyrical line of her belly. He was stillfully clothed and standing by the bed. It felt safer that way, somehow. To keep a cloth barrier between them. Like the blockade he’d built around his heart. Give her pleasure, nothing more.
Her fingers brushed his cock through his breeches. Pure, teasing agony.
“Show me,” she said again.
He moved her on the bed, sliding her forward until her thighs hung off the edge.
He laid her back gently, positioning the pillow under her head. “If you begin to feel light-headed, if you have any pain in your temple at all, tell me to stop, or tap me on the shoulder.”
She nodded, her eyes flashing wickedly. “And if you begin to feel light-headed, my lord, and faint from desire, let me know.”
Minx.
Her legs were clamped together. He coaxed them apart with gentle kisses on her thighs and soothing touches on her belly. Her thighs parted one inch, then another.
“That’s right,” he said. “Open for me.”
When her thighs were spread wide, he placed his palms on her thighs, holding her open. He gazed at the beautiful, mouthwatering delicacy of her sex, and then dipped his head to taste her.