Page 57 of Lord Appleby's Gorgeous Imposter
“Care to remove them from me?”
“Oh, I would. I’ve often wondered what was beneath all these layers.”
He chuckled. The look in her eyes burned away any barriers to their union. “You have a few layers of your own.”
She gave him a moue like a singer of a bawdy Pont Neuf vaudeville. “You may remove mine, after I’m done with yours.”
He spread out his arms. “Go to it, then. I am eager, and the day grows short.”
She shot a glance at the far window. “Hmmm. Not even noon, sir.”
“But we have so much to do.”
She put her fingers to his shirt and yanked it from his breeches. She hummed as she drew it over his naked shoulders and dropped it to the floor. At the sight before her, she licked her lips. His triceps and pectorals must have appealed, because she swallowed audibly. But as she ran her palms over each ridge and valley down to his hipbones, his patience died to an adventure in longing.
“You try a man’s patience.”
“Oh. What do you recommend?”
He hooted. “Want a description, do you?”
She batted her pale blonde lashes at him and flicked the top button of his flies. “I’ve never done this, so I need instructions. I won’t know what to put where.”
That aroused him as little else could, so he grabbed her and kissed her senseless. Panting, he vowed, “I know what to put where, my darling. I have things in hand.”
“Oh! But I thought I could.”
“What?” He looked confused.
“Have a few things in hand.”
He gave her a sly look. “You steal my breath.”
“Oh, marvelous. Because I was told that was allowed. I heard from my friend Kate Martin that a woman could have her husband’s”—she cleared her throat—“accoutrementsin hand and make him very happy!”
He growled. “And who is Kate Martin?”
“My friend, and one of your wise tenants.”
“I see,” he said as Viv unbuttoned his flies. “A fine lady. Married, is she?”
“Oh, yes.” Viv sank one hand against the fullness of his aching cock and held him tight. “Told me all sorts of delightful things. And I have never been able to use the knowledge. Except on myself. Of course.”
“You know a lot, then, about what you can feel?” he asked, ready to give her endless delights with his fingers, his tongue, and most especially his throbbing cock.
She put her lips to his and licked the seam. “I do. I hope you will make me feel better than that. It was…lonely.”
He clamped her to him with one hand and stroked her collarbone with the other. Across the rise of her breast, he planted tiny kisses. She wriggled in his arms as he slid down her bodice to reveal one hard, pale pink nipple. “What we will do will always be together.”
“Show me,” she said into his mouth. “I cannot breathe or think or dream any longer without you.”
Tate took her gown from her with care, though his fingers shook and his heart pounded. Her corset and her shift came next. She stood before him, her voluptuous breasts a treat he longed to savor. For a moment, she allowed him the pleasure of absorbing the sight of all of her, then she reached for him.
With a staying hand to her, he sat and pulled off his boots and stockings. Then he went to her, eager as an untried boy. For hehadhad women. An occasional romp, sometimes a refuge,but never one who meant to him more than the hour or the evening. He held Viv by the waist as she took down his breeches and his smalls. He stepped out of them, and she watched him as if she was memorizing each movement of his muscles.
Smiling in reassurance at her dazed expression, he scooped her up under her knees and back and laid her on his bed. With a slide of his fingers into the wealth of her silken white-gold hair, he pulled it free of pins and spread the waves over her throat and down her shoulder.
“You are so lovely, my darling. I have never seen any beauty to compare to yours.”
