Page 64 of The Viscount's Seduction
Chapter 15
Sirena settledon the very edge of his legs. Her fingers trembled on the slim shiny buttons of his waistcoat, and she kept her eyes focused on them, trying to avoid looking at his trousers below.
Heat pulsed through her. He’d left his hands bracketing her hips, the warmth of them sending her insides quaking.
When she glanced up, he was watching her in that dark, slack-eyed way that nevertheless seemed to glitter.
“There,” she said, keeping her voice nonchalant. She pushed his waistcoat off. “Lean forward, sir.”
He did, pushing her robe back, hooking his hands around her back, and pressing himself to her while she slid off the waistcoat, leaving him clad in only his shirt. He fell back, taking her with him, only her chemise and his shirt keeping their flesh apart.
And ’twas only her chemise and his pantaloons keeping her hot center from his hard erection. The pounding she felt might be her heart or his.
He pushed the robe off her, skimming his hands over her bare arms. “There. What do we have left?”
She felt his fingers trail down to the hem of her chemise and underneath, moving up the silk of her stockings to the ribbon garters holding them.
“You have the loveliest legs.”
“Go on with you. You’ve not even seen them.”
He gave her knee a squeeze. “I have taken a peek at your ankles. As for the rest, I’m going by touch. Which is telling me that the rest of you is lovely also.”
She turned her head to argue and his lips captured hers, at once startling, yet familiar. This was Bakeley, and he was her husband, and he’d promised her she had nothing to fear. She’d shared her last secret.
She let herself sink into the kiss. Perhapshewas keeping secrets. He was Shaldon’s son after all.
But wasn’t this the surest way to gain his confidence?
And she wanted this. The heat that raced through her seemed to pool in the spot where her private parts met his.
His lips slanted and moved, his tongue stroking, and she found herself matching him, kissing him back. The desire he kindled in her roared to life and she trailed her lips down his jaw, savoring the prickle of his stubble. He’d not stopped to shave for the wedding or the party after, and she was glad. She liked the feel of the scratchy dark scruff against her lips and her cheek.
Was his chest hairy also? She undid the button at the shirt opening and slid her hand under the white fabric, over his shoulders, halfway afraid that he would find her too bold.
Instead, it seemed to inflame him more. He bent his head to her breast, suckling her through the thin chemise, making her wet there, also. The heat, the wet—steam should be rising around them. She wanted to be closer, needed to be closer.
She hitched herself up and the movement made him gasp.
All of her froze. “My lord?”
He rested his head on her breast. His dark locks tickled her nose and she could feel his silent chuckle. And then there was the scent of him, the same manly smell that had permeated the robe he’d put around her.
“My lord?”
He lifted his head, propping his chin on her breast the way her best hound used to do. Only the dog’s look had been imploring. This look was wicked.
She let out a breath. “You’re fine, I see.”
“And you, my lady?”
His grin stirred something in her, though she couldn’t name what it was. She wanted more. She wanted something.
She wanted to see him. That was it.
Let him be shocked. She was no fine lady, and anyway, he was stuck with her.
She tugged at his shirttails. “Take this off.”
