She swallowed. “My apologies for putting you in such a challenging position.”
He moved to whisper in her ear. “This isn’t the position I had in mind. I’d much prefer you naked on this table.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Merely a kiss, ’tis all I request.”
“A kiss,” he repeated. “Like this?” He trailed tiny kisses across her lower lip.
She sucked in her breath. “More.”
His lips moved across hers, tenderly, but with a promise of passion. “How was that?”
“More,” she breathed.
And with that he yanked her chair back, pulled her across his lap, and kissed her. His mouth opened slightly and his tongue slid seductively first across her lower lip, then her upper. She opened for him. And his tongue delved inside.
The world around her disappeared. She heard no sound save their breathing and felt nothing but the sensations flooding her body, lighting her nerves like fireworks.
He moved her left leg so that now she straddled him, her skirt bunching up between them.
Desire sparked through her body, igniting every limb, every inch of skin from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes and radiating in between. Her nipples hardened and pressed achingly against the fabric of her dress. She longed for him to touch them, to rub against them.
As if he read her mind, his hand slid beneath her bodice and cupped her breast. The caress was so intimate, it should have shamed her. But with his warm hand against her aching flesh, she felt a jolt of boldness shoot through her. His mouth left hers and slid seductively down the column of her throat and across her collarbone. Unabashedly, she arched toward him.
She grabbed his shoulders and tried to press herself even closer to him, trying in vain to alleviate whatever the ache was that was building inside her.
Naked on the table.
He kissed her again, so deep, so thoroughly, she thought she would come apart at the seams. Then their kiss ended, and for a moment they sat there holding on to each other, their breaths mingling in the quiet air.
“Esme,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You must learn to control yourself, as it is abundantly clear that there is no gentleman within me.” And with that he sat her back on her chair, then stood and walked to the opposite side of the room.
She tried to concentrate on his words. “This distresses you,” she said.
“You are an innocent. I have no wish for some angry family member to come knocking on my door and demand I marry you.” He gave her a wry smile. “I am not in need of a wife.”
The desire pooling through her body seemed instantly to dissolve, like sugar in steaming coffee. He had no need for her was what he meant.
Men always married. It was in them to find a wife to care for them and see to their needs. So it must be that she didn’t suit him, and he was trying to be kind.
His words stung to her very core. Yet for all the world she would not have him know how they pained her. She notched her chin up. “I am not looking for a husband either. And you needn’t worry about any gallant men in my family tree; I have none.”
His face softened. “Gallant men or a family tree?”
“Either.” She shrugged. “I have told you, I am my own woman.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked softly, and she almost believed he truly cared.
She swallowed and ignored the list of desires that scrolled through her mind. A husband who loved and adored her. Children.
She wanted to say that she didn’t enjoy being cursed with desire for a man she’d ordinarily never look at twice. Because while that might be true, it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her. She’d trained herself not to notice attractive men, not to long for that which was unattainable to her.
“I want to get this bracelet off my arm so that I will cease putting you in such an awkward position.”
His jaw clenched. “Shall we get back to the books, then?”