Page 61 of Ladies in Hating
Georgiana heard the sound of her own heart beating in her ears. She understood what Cat was asking for.
It was easy to be caught up in passion. To tell oneself later that it had been a mistake. She’d told herself that before, when they’d kissed—that she was wrong for Cat. That Cat deserved someone better, someone as open and joyful as she was.
That she would hurt Cat, if she let her get too close.
But Cat was asking her now, in the intimate darkness of the chamber, to say aloud what she wanted. To tell the truth, tomeanit—and to promise that she would not pull away.
How many times had Georgiana been astonished by Cat’s courage? By her willingness to drop her guard? She thought again of the way Cat smiled—wide and generous, as though it was as easy as breathing.
Blood rushed in her ears, and her chest hurt, and shewanted.
She wished she had a thousandth part of Cat’s courage. But she was only herself—afraid to be vulnerable, unwilling to let down her guard.
Terrified. But too goddamned stubborn to let Cat go.
“I promise,” she whispered. “I won’t—do what I did before. I swear it.”
Cat reached up and cupped Georgiana’s cheek. Her fingers felt cool against the blistering heat churning inside Georgiana.And slowly, soft-eyed, she tugged Georgiana’s head down until their mouths met again.
It was different this time—gentler. Sweeter than Georgiana could ever have imagined.
“You wanted me then?” Cat murmured. “At Woodcote?”
“Always,” she managed, and then buried the word against Cat’s lips.
They kissed for a single intoxicating moment before Cat drew back. She looked almost painfully alluring, the valley between her breasts deep in shadow, the rise of flesh above her low-cut chemise glistening in the candlelight.
“I want something from you,” Cat said.
“Anything,” Georgiana said—recklessly, fervently—and refused to give in to the cowardly impulse to take it back.
“Do you trust me?”
Twice now, Georgiana had made that same inquiry of Cat. And twice, Cat had handed her trust over without question, regardless of the chance of disaster or the potential for pain.
Could Georgiana not find it within herself to do the same?
“Yes.” There was longing in her voice—and fear. “I do.”
Cat’s lips curled up, that slow, wide smile that Georgiana loved so much. “Good,” she said. “Take off your clothes.”
“I—” Georgiana swallowed. “What?”
“You arranged for a bath,” Cat said. “I do not mean to waste it.”
Georgiana took a breath and watched Cat’s gaze drift down to where her breasts rose and fell. She breathed again, for courage, then brought her fingers to her bodice, which fastened in a dozen cloth-covered buttons right down the front. She slipped one free, and then a second, and a third.
Cat followed the movement, her eyes hungry and her full lips pressed lightly together. She didn’t move.
When Georgiana had unfastened enough of the buttons for the two halves of her violet walking dress to part, she paused, and shrugged her shoulders out of the garment. She let it fall to the floor and stood, trembling lightly, beneath Cat’s gaze.
She had not done this before. Never had she been so revealed.
“Keep going,” Cat whispered. “Don’t stop now.”
“You needn’t leave me to the task alone, you know.” Georgiana had aimed for tartness, but her voice was shaking. “You could help.”
Cat’s smile went the faintest bit crooked, the right corner of her mouth lifting above the left. “Her ladyship needs assistance undressing, then?”
