She opened her mouth to say yes, but closed it again. Suddenly she wasn’t so certain. The tension in him, as if he was barely under control, made her wary. She was not such an innocent that she didn’t know some men were dangerous, untamed creatures, and rakes were particularly dangerous. Her hesitation now was pure instinct, and had nothing to do with her brain or her emotions.
“Are you having second thoughts?” He laughed quietly, moving closer and resting his long fingers on her shoulder. His thumb rubbed against her neck, making circles, and her breathing quickened. Olivia forced herself to steady it; time to take the initiative again.
“Ravish me, Nic,” she said, gazing up into his eyes. “I dare you.”
He was reading her, or trying to. She saw the flicker of doubt in his face, the hardening of his mouth. He bent down, so close she could feel his heat and smell the spicy scent of him and the steam as his wet clothing dried in the warmth of the fire.
“You’ll be sorry if I do,” he growled. “You’re pushing me, Olivia. I can only be pushed so far. You don’t know what I could do to you. What I have done…”
Despite his warning, she ached for him to kiss her again. “Tell me.”
His gaze narrowed. “I can tell you what I’d do to you if you were one of my usual flirts. Can you pretend to be a pretty little dancer from the East End, or a refined courtesan with a dark past?”
“The dancer,” she said at once, enjoying the thought. “Can I imagine myself wearing a short skirt and pink stockings? I have heard that’s what they wear.”
“Oh yes, definitely,” he drawled. “Will you sing me a
saucy song?”
Olivia considered. “I don’t know any saucy songs. Perhaps I can just kick up my legs, will that do?”
“I’m sure that will catch my attention.”
“Is that all I have to do?”
“No. There’s more. Later, when you’ve finished kicking up your legs, I’ll come to your dressing room. I’ll bring a bottle of champagne with me, and pour you a glass, and tell you how much I admire you.”
“I’d be flattered. Will you kiss me?”
“I think so.”
“Good. And then what?”
“And then, my little dancer, I’ll—”
Olivia, sensing he was trying to shock her, wasn’t about to let it happen. Once again she took the initiative. “Why don’t you show me instead of telling me?” she said, and let the blankets fall from around her, pooling in the seat of the leather chair.
Something hot and dangerous flared in his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he murmured.
“I’d never say that,” she managed, with barely a tremor.
He gave her the faintest of smiles, as if he knew exactly how she was feeling, and ran his fingertip along the neckline of her lemon dress. He stepped in closer, his hand catching her chin and lifting her face this way and that. The pad of his thumb brushed back and forth over her lips, lightly, and for a moment he seemed fascinated by the soft swell of them.
She wanted him to kiss her so badly that she was sure he could read it in her face. Her breath quickened, her skin flushed, and she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Ah, passion!” His deep voice startled her out of whatever trance he’d begun to put her under. “You want me. That’s something women can pretend, but an experienced man will always know when they are genuine and when they are lying.”
“I do want you to kiss me,” she managed in a husky voice that didn’t sound like her own. “I think, if you don’t, then I will die.”
“Then kiss you I will, my little dancer.”
He leaned in, capturing her bottom lip between his, sucking on it gently. The sensation was exquisite, and she made a murmur of sound to tell him so. Her hand moved to stroke his cheek but he caught it, held it away, not allowing her to touch him. Firmly his mouth closed over hers, caressing, stroking, delving deeper.
Olivia felt as if she’d entered a sensual world she’d known nothing about before she asked Nic to marry her, and their kiss was taking her deeper into that world. Her skin was feeling hotter and more sensitive, there was an ache between her thighs, and with it came a need she still only half understood.
Nic finally lifted his lips from hers. “Inexperienced,” he murmured, “but sweet, very sweet.” His fingers slid into her fair hair, releasing it from its pins and fanning it out around her shoulders. The damp strands were already drying. He pressed his face against her hair, breathing deeply, nuzzling against her.
“Nic?” she said, trying to see his face, but he held her too close. “What are you doing?”