Page 64 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
“And miss the smile I put on your face? Never.”
Ada melted. She had read of that happening in novels. She had not thought it actually possible. She had been wrong. Was she a puddle yet? She certainly felt like it, or the very least she had become putty in his hands. Her recent thoughts of secret liaisons must have softened her toward the man.
His breath whispered across the back of her neck. “Tell me to go home. Because I am having wicked thoughts indeed, and I am afraid they will undo all the good work we have done to reform me. Besides I abhor the theatre. I came only for you.”
She twisted in her seat, stunned enough to let out a startled “What?”
He grinned, and though his dark eyes blended with the shadows, he could not hide the mischievous twinkle in them.
She glanced toward her family, who seemed not to have noticed her outburst then spoke with a disbelieving whisper. “You hate the theatre?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I rather thought you’d respond first and foremost to my admission of wicked thoughts. And yet, here we are. I must make an accounting for my dislike of theatrical productions instead.”
“How can you? It so exciting!”
He crossed his arms on the back the chair beside her and rested his chin on top of them. “Do you wish to know the truth?”
She nodded.
“Well, in the past I cared more for what would happen after the play. And not at all interested in watching the woman I planned to make love to act out making love to some other man on stage.”
She must have looked like a statue. Slowly she turned back around to face the stage until she could figure out her next words. The heat of his body and his breath warmed the back of her neck again, but she did not turn around.
“You know how bad I am, Miss Cavendish. Surely you are not shocked. I have taught you what to expect from me.”
She turned her head only until her chin grazed her shoulder. “I do not know the man you speak of because he is not the man you are. I am afraid I have difficulty reconciling the two.” Though both of them made her shiver, catch her breath. Made her breasts strain across her too-low bodice.
She tried to focus on the stage. A man stood in a pool of light, reciting a soliloquy, and for a moment she forgot the other man behind her pooled in shadows. Ada sat straight as a board, enraptured by the sights and sounds on the stage below. And then, warm fingers brushed her neck. They started at the base of her skull, a gentle fluttering touch, and then as if the owner of said appendages grew bolder, the touch grew stronger.
Cass stroked down the length of her neck and then into the curve where her shoulder and neck met. Most of her gowns (until this evening) had cloth where his fingers rested. Did she miss it, that barrier between his skin and hers? No. She leaned her head to the other side, giving him greater access to the curve of her body just there. He strengthened his touch and squeezed his hand around her muscle.A moan rose into her throat, and she swallowed it.
She snapped her neck straight and turned to view her family. Heavens, she had not even wondered whether or not they had noticed Cass’s arrival in the box. Surely, they had, but they’d been chatting, their attention riveted on the stage, so perhaps not.
And yet… his presence now seemed entirely scandalous. They should not be here. He should not be here. He flirted with the danger of exile and moral degradation, but she flirted with danger as well, the danger of been entirely seduced. And to think, she’d worried about how to do the seducing. She need not concern herself, it seemed. She put herself in the capable clutches of a seduction expert.
His lips skimmed her ear. “I know you are my governess, but I must admit…”
“Admit what?” she whispered with heavy breaths.
“I’d rather teach you a few things instead.”
“Such as?”
She felt the wet, warm tip of his tongue trace the outline of her ear. She heard a deep chuckle. “Guess, love.”
She swung around to face him, her mouth open wide enough for a horse to trot through.
His eyes glittered in the candlelight, and his mouth hitched into a half grin. His dark curls tumbled about his face artfully.
She snapped her mouth shut.
He glanced over at her family, who seemed riveted on the action below. “Well? Do you have a guess or two?”
She turned around and put a hand to her temple, her mind a complete muddle.
His lips brushed her earlobe. “You’ve helped me reform as well as you can. Now let me help you, Ada. Do you ache for me? Your cheeks are flushed, and the tiny, fine hairs on the back of your elegant neck stand up when I touch you. Her eyes are bright and glassy. Whatever you’re feeling, I can help you with it.”
He offered her what she wanted, yet she hesitated. Oh, she still wanted it, but taking it would be stepping into an inferno from which she might not escape unsinged.
