her unbearably queasy and headachy the next day, it had never seemed to affect her in any special way. At least not before now. Or was it the intimacy of the private chamber? The memories of their flirtation at Eastwood Place?
Was it the danger to herself this evening? She had always experienced a surge of carnal excitement after a battle, or any kind of danger.
Stephen took another drink.
That beautiful mouth. That magnificent jaw line.
Wetness trickled from her sex. Her flesh clenched again and again. Her arousal increased quickly, the tension, the swelling of her intimate flesh mounting until she was forced to shift upon the seat. She crossed her legs, pressing them tightly together.
She had thought herself incapable of feeling arousal ever again. Her broken heart had seemed to also break those parts of her vital to desire.
But she was growing wetter by the moment and her flesh continued to tingle and swell and to clench with hunger.
Heaven help her not to do anything foolish.
She barely knew him. She’d known the boy. But the man was a mystery. Perhaps a very dangerous mystery. She couldn’t take another broken heart.
But danger, taking risks, it had all once fuelled her arousal. It sparked in her blood now. In the past, she’d often used carnality to distract herself from danger. Would it really matter if she did the same thing tonight?
Don’t be stupid. Don’t lose your head.
She closed her eyes and let her imagination drift where it most wanted to go.
Down his firm, silk-covered midsection. All the way down…
She slid from the chair and dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes lowered.
He spread his legs wide and drew her into their circle.
She put her hands on his thighs, feeling powerful, lean muscles ripple beneath the velveteen trousers. He caressed her hair, traced his fingertips down her cheek.
Through his velveteen trousers, she touched his erection, it throbbed beneath her fingers—
“Rebecca?”
His voice cut into her naughty mental wanderings and she popped her eyes open.
“Are you feeling well?” he repeated, his voice authoritative.
She stared at him open-mouthed. She couldn’t quite make her brain focus on anything but the beauty of his face.
If she did drop to her knees, right here, right now, and dared to offer her services to him, would he be disgusted?
Intrigued?
Aroused?
Desire swept through her in a dizzying rush. She took another gulp of wine. Too fast. She had to suppress a belch.
Well, she tried very hard to suppress a belch.
So much for being ladylike!
He donned a thoughtful look. “Are you foxed?”
Slowly, she arched her back, stretching herself with practised languor. “I don’t think so, not really.”
Her voice sounded in her ears, soft and breathy. She was still arching her back, her breasts straining against her bodice. She was flirting with him. Silently offering herself. Shamelessly. She couldn’t help herself.
Stephen’s gaze was riveted to her breasts.
He didn’t seem to be disgusted.
Don’t be foolish, Rebecca. Please don’t.
She laughed softly. “Your latest harlot?”
He jerked his gaze back to hers.
His eyes seemed darker, larger. Deep as the night.
He was interested. Aroused.
She wound a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Tell me, Stephen, do you escort many of your harlots here?” She nodded about the chamber, but the motion sent waves of dizziness over her. Reeling for a moment, she had to put her hands flat on the table. Discreetly, she hoped. “Do you bring them here and serve them fine wine?”
The barest smile graced his lips.
Her inner walls clenched. Hard.
Wet, she was getting so very wet.
“No, Rebecca, I do not bring my harlots here.”
“Ah, but, you forget, I am a harlot.” Oh, had she just said that aloud?
A quick glance caught him with that deliciously carnal mouth slightly agape.
She had said it aloud! The teasing, sultry note in her voice still rang in her ears. Apparently, even after all
Was it the danger to herself this evening? She had always experienced a surge of carnal excitement after a battle, or any kind of danger.
Stephen took another drink.
That beautiful mouth. That magnificent jaw line.
Wetness trickled from her sex. Her flesh clenched again and again. Her arousal increased quickly, the tension, the swelling of her intimate flesh mounting until she was forced to shift upon the seat. She crossed her legs, pressing them tightly together.
She had thought herself incapable of feeling arousal ever again. Her broken heart had seemed to also break those parts of her vital to desire.
But she was growing wetter by the moment and her flesh continued to tingle and swell and to clench with hunger.
Heaven help her not to do anything foolish.
She barely knew him. She’d known the boy. But the man was a mystery. Perhaps a very dangerous mystery. She couldn’t take another broken heart.
But danger, taking risks, it had all once fuelled her arousal. It sparked in her blood now. In the past, she’d often used carnality to distract herself from danger. Would it really matter if she did the same thing tonight?
Don’t be stupid. Don’t lose your head.
She closed her eyes and let her imagination drift where it most wanted to go.
Down his firm, silk-covered midsection. All the way down…
She slid from the chair and dropped to her knees, keeping her eyes lowered.
He spread his legs wide and drew her into their circle.
She put her hands on his thighs, feeling powerful, lean muscles ripple beneath the velveteen trousers. He caressed her hair, traced his fingertips down her cheek.
Through his velveteen trousers, she touched his erection, it throbbed beneath her fingers—
“Rebecca?”
His voice cut into her naughty mental wanderings and she popped her eyes open.
“Are you feeling well?” he repeated, his voice authoritative.
She stared at him open-mouthed. She couldn’t quite make her brain focus on anything but the beauty of his face.
If she did drop to her knees, right here, right now, and dared to offer her services to him, would he be disgusted?
Intrigued?
Aroused?
Desire swept through her in a dizzying rush. She took another gulp of wine. Too fast. She had to suppress a belch.
Well, she tried very hard to suppress a belch.
So much for being ladylike!
He donned a thoughtful look. “Are you foxed?”
Slowly, she arched her back, stretching herself with practised languor. “I don’t think so, not really.”
Her voice sounded in her ears, soft and breathy. She was still arching her back, her breasts straining against her bodice. She was flirting with him. Silently offering herself. Shamelessly. She couldn’t help herself.
Stephen’s gaze was riveted to her breasts.
He didn’t seem to be disgusted.
Don’t be foolish, Rebecca. Please don’t.
She laughed softly. “Your latest harlot?”
He jerked his gaze back to hers.
His eyes seemed darker, larger. Deep as the night.
He was interested. Aroused.
She wound a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Tell me, Stephen, do you escort many of your harlots here?” She nodded about the chamber, but the motion sent waves of dizziness over her. Reeling for a moment, she had to put her hands flat on the table. Discreetly, she hoped. “Do you bring them here and serve them fine wine?”
The barest smile graced his lips.
Her inner walls clenched. Hard.
Wet, she was getting so very wet.
“No, Rebecca, I do not bring my harlots here.”
“Ah, but, you forget, I am a harlot.” Oh, had she just said that aloud?
A quick glance caught him with that deliciously carnal mouth slightly agape.
She had said it aloud! The teasing, sultry note in her voice still rang in her ears. Apparently, even after all
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