Page 32 of Tales of a Society Nothing

“You’ll catch your death. I’d rather not mourn you when I just found you again.” She started to strip off his coat. “Out of these wet clothes. I’d start a fire, but we’re out of coal.”

“We should go back to the safe house.”

“And back out into the rain? I’ll find a way to keep you warm until it stops raining.”

“I like the sound of that.”

She loosened his neckcloth and then unfastened the buttons of his shirt, pulling it over his head. She stepped away and returned a moment later, dropping the thin blanket from the bed over his shoulders. She took his hands and pulled him to his feet, tugging him toward the bed. He paused to remove a boot while she unfastened her bodice. He removed the other boot while she untied her skirts. He stripped off one stocking then the other while she kicked off her boots and dropped her petticoat. He reached for his breeches while she started on the laces to her corset.

“Let me do that,” he said as his breeches dropped to the floor. She had the corset loosened, but she moved her hands so he might finish the task and toss the garment aside. She stood in only her chemise, her red hair a sharp contrast to the pale linen. Ambrose pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not shivering anymore,” he whispered.

“I can change that.”

“No doubt.” He reached for the tie at her neck. “May I?”

“Please.” He pulled it loose and pushed the chemise down off her shoulders. His hands traced the smooth skin of her upper arm and down to her wrists. The garment fell to the ground, and he slid his hands back up her thighs to rest on her waist. She lifted her chin, and their mouths met for a long, tantalizing kiss. They’d always been partners in bed, Ambrose realized. They both gave as much as they took. Now they’d be partners in everything else.

She took a step back and then another until she lay back on the bed. He took a moment to admire her there then followed her down. Her legs tangled with his and their hands explored, followed by their mouths. When she was gasping and he so hard it was uncomfortable, he looked up at her, meeting her gaze.

Her legs tightened around him, and he entered her slowly. She moaned and arched to meet him. He wanted to take her leisurely, to make this last. But, as usual, her cries and the thrust of her hips, the way she bit his shoulder, spurred him toward climax. When she went over the edge, he couldn’t help but follow her.

They lay breathing together, their bodies tangled, their limbs heavy.

“Can I ask you for something?” she murmured.

“Anything,” he said. This was where she told him she wanted to infiltrate London’s criminal underworld or trek across the Continent in search of a notorious assassin. He’d promised to be her partner, so he’d follow her anywhere.

He pushed back on his elbows and looked down at her flushed face and her bright eyes.

“Grow your beard back.”

He stared at her. “My—you liked it?”

She bit her lip. “I did.”

“I’ll throw my razor away. Is that all you want?”

“No,” she said. “But we’ll take the rest as it comes.”

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