Page 122 of While You Were Spying

“What I dreamed about doing all last night.” He ignored her efforts at resistance and, removing her spencer, tossed it aside. Then he began on the tapes securing her gown.

“Ethan, this is highly improper.”

He raised one wicked eyebrow. “I know.” Loosening her dress, he pulled it down over her shoulders and kissed the bared skin of her collarbone.

“Ethan!” She’d meant to chastise him further, but her voice came out strangled as his warm lips grazed the swell of her breast. “What if someone realizes what we’re doing?”

“We’re married. We can do whatever we want,” he mumbled. Pushing her gown lower, his tongue traced the valley between her breasts.

She clenched her fingers on the material of the cushion behind him and tried not to groan. “But what if the coachman hears us?”

“We’ll have to be quiet, won’t we?”

She didn’t like the look in his eyes when he said it. The fiendish glint she saw in them warned her that she was the one who would have to worry about volume.

His hands cupped her breasts, and she groaned as his palms brushed over her hard, sensitive nipples. His fingers plucked at them through the material of the dress before he tugged down the fabric of both dress and chemise. She was completely exposed to him.

“Ethan.” It came out as a moan.

He shifted beneath her, and she felt his hardness between her legs. His mouth found her breast, while one hand continued to fondle the other. She leaned back, savoring the exquisite pleasure.

He was very bad.Shewas bad, half-naked in a coach traveling through the English countryside, a man kissing her bare breast while his other hand—oh my, his other hand—inched up her skirts. This was definitely not behavior appropriate for a proper young lady.

Ethan’s mouth, slick and hot, slid to her other breast as his hand closed on her thigh. Francesca let out a shuddering breath and all thoughts of propriety and good behavior with it.

Almost of their own accord, her hands began to loosen his clothing. She pulled anxiously at his cravat and tugged at the buttons of his collar. She wanted to run her fingers over his chest. Press her bare skin to his.

Both of his hands were beneath her skirts now, caressing her inner thighs. His fingers made small circles that promised to increase in diameter until they intersected at the juncture of her thighs. Not pausing in his ministrations, he leaned back to allow her to undress him. She struggled with a particularly recalcitrant knot in his cravat.

“Take down your hair.”

She yanked the knot again. “Hmmm?” Her fingers felt the neckcloth loosen.

“Take your hair down for me,” he repeated. The gold flecks in his eyes burned as he said it.

Seeing the heat in his eyes, she paused in her efforts and lifted her hands to loose the pins binding her simple coiffure.

“Slowly,” he ordered.

She shivered at the sensual sound of his voice. How could she have ever thought he didn’t want her?

She did as he’d instructed, feeling slightly embarrassed at her role as vixen, until she looked into his eyes again. Then she was trapped in the sticky sap of their amber depths. One after another, she drew out her pins, feeling the tickle of each curl as it brushed the exposed skin of her back. As she worked, his hands skated higher on her legs, so that by the time she pulled the last pin, she was panting as his fingers thrust inside her moist depths.

She cried out, heedless of who might hear her now, and then one of his hands was wrapped in her hair, pulling her mouth to his as his other hand worked its magic.

He kissed her long and hard, and she could not seem to get enough of his mouth on hers. His tongue thrust inside her, and she felt his hand release her hair to move between them. Then he was inside her, hard and full. Both of his hands wrapped around her waist and he guided her movements, showing her how to use her body and the motion of the coach to give them both the most pleasure.

When she found fulfillment, a scant moment before he did, she slumped against him, amazed she’d once again survived the storm of their lovemaking and equally amazed he’d shown her yet another way he could pleasure her.

She lay her head against his shoulder, inhaling the sandalwood scent caught in his coat. She never had managed to undress him. He looked down at her, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very quiet.”

“No,” he agreed. “You weren’t.”

She stiffened and began straightening her dress. “Do you think the coachman heard?”

Ethan shrugged. “Possibly.” He seemed in no hurry to right his own clothing.

“Oh Lord! What will he think?”

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