Page 13 of The Secret of My Seduction
What did that mean? Her fevered imagination bolted like a startled horse, rampaging through various erotic visions. Her knees started to quake, and her heart banged inside her chest, and she gulped down some wine.
“Is this your house?” she asked, trying to distract herself from anticipation of what lay ahead.
Liam hesitated. “It is.”
“It’s quite handsome,” she said truthfully. “And so pleasantly removed from London.”
“That was crucial.” A wry smile crossed his face as he glanced around the room. “It’s not widely known, so it’s quite private.”
Bathsheba nodded, drinking again. She understood what he was saying, both assuring her of discretion and urging her to keep it. “Good.” Her glass was almost empty. “Should I take off my dress now?”
His gaze slithered over her. “Take it off or leave it on, as you wish.”
“Oh?” She almost choked on the last mouthful of wine. “We won’t—? That is, aren’t you—?”
He took the glass out of her limp fingers. “Tonight you’re going to undress me. If you also wish to disrobe…” He flashed his lazy smile. “I will not object.”
Oh dear Lord. The thought of Liam, naked, sent her pulse leaping so hard, she thought she might faint. “That is not what I asked for,” she blurted out.
“Seduction goes both ways,” he countered. “At least, it should.” He folded back one shirt cuff and undid it, then undid the other one. He dropped the studs on the mantel. “Or do you find it unappealing?”
No. She found the idea dangerously, lusciously appealing, and she feared the actual experience of it would leave her a lunatic, mad with lust for him. “Don’t be silly,” she said brusquely. “You’re the bloody expert, I’ll follow your recommendation.”
He was still smiling, the rotter. Bathsheba vowed to take that smile off his face. “Very well. Undress me—but leisurely. As you imagine a woman would undress her lover.”
If I could make myself your lover, I would, she thought. “And I keep all my clothes on?”
“As many as you wish,” he agreed.
She reflected a moment. “Are there any benefits to disrobing?”
His eyes gleamed. “By all means, bare anything you wish to offer up for my enjoyment.”
The thought of lesson one being repeated while he was as naked as she was blazed across her mind. His hands on her bare flesh felt incredible; she was dying to feel his skin. “Very well,” she said, and untied her sash. She removed her dress and petticoat, but paused after laying them aside. “That’s enough for now,” she announced, then cringed.
He only smiled at her nerves. “Now my clothes,” he prompted. He wore a banyan over trousers and shirt, no jacket or waistcoat or even boots; he wore slippers on his bare feet. Bathsheba pushed the banyan down his shoulders, then tugged at his cravat.
“Gently,” he murmured. “And try not to look so grim as you do it.”
Her hands paused. “I’ve never done this before,” she said tartly. “Perhaps you should describe the process before I attempt it.”
“Imagine yourself Lady Constance,” he said after a moment. “Finally alone with the man you desire. You’re anxious to strip him to your gaze, eager to marvel at his body—but patient enough to savor each moment of the unwrapping. You want your lover to take his time with your pleasure; take your time with his. Explore at will.”
Explore.He was giving her carte blanche with his body. A rapid pulse of excitement throbbed through her, in her belly and lower. She untied his cravat with steady hands, although she avoided his gaze. It was strange enough to be undressing him without gazing into his eyes the whole while. That felt too lover-like, too intimate. They were not lovers, this was not true intimacy, and she didn’t want to take one step down the path toward letting herself think it was.
The shirt buttons came loose with a flick of her fingers; she gathered the fabric at his waist and pushed upward until his bare abdomen was beneath her hands.
And oh—she almost forgot herself. Bathsheba pushed the shirt up and up, over his head until he pulled out his arms and she let it drop to the floor. He was solid and well-muscled, with a light mat of dark hair covering his upper chest and narrowing down his stomach. Bathsheba had seen naked statues in museums, and she had cared for her brother in his illness. Liam left them all in the shade and took her breath away.
“Explore,” he reminded her, and without thinking she plowed her fingers through the hair on his chest. It was soft but crisp, not thick but evenly spread, and she stepped closer, fascinated by the texture.
“May I put my mouth on you?”
His stomach flinched. “Yes.” Bathsheba leaned forward and touched her tongue to his small, flat nipple. Liam’s abdomen flexed again, but he didn’t protest. She gave a gentle pull with her teeth, then sucked it between her lips as he had done to her. The flesh grew ripe and hard against her tongue, and when she drew back, she noticed his other nipple was hard as well, standing out from the sprinkling of dark hair. She stroked her thumb over it, then pinched it lightly.
“Do you like that?” She glanced up at him.
His gray eyes were hooded. “Can’t you tell?”
