Tina hesitated. She could change the subject now—that is what she should do—but Tina knew it wasn’t what she wanted to do. There was a wicked creature stirring inside her, a temptress, and suddenly she gave in to it.
“Touch me?” she asked, being deliberately obtuse. “Touch me in what way, Mr. Eversham?”
But he was too cautious to be drawn on that.
“Your mother must have told you what liberties you should permit a gentleman?”
Tina waved a hand. “She mentioned something about it. Actually we discussed it recently. She said that although I must not let a gentleman touch me, I can let him look. Because, she says, a gentleman will not buy what he can have for free.”
He chuckled.
“Surely that is a contradiction in terms?” she added in a puzzled voice. “A gentleman should be beyond reproach in such matters.”
“Tina, if you believe that, you have a lot to learn.”
“That is what she said,” Tina replied glumly.
Richard steepled his hands under his chin, as if, she thought, in amusement, he was about to impart to her the wisdom of the ages.
“In essence I agree with Lady Carol, particularly in Gilfoyle’s case. Although a little touching can be good, too. Men like Gilfoyle, who are used to getting their own way, can be driven mad by a little touching if they’re then refused the ultimate prize.”
Tina wondered where he was going with this. She was beginning to feel very warm. The ultimate prize. She was tempted to ask him more about that but bailed out at the last moment.
“So what is acceptable?” she asked instead, wondering at her daring. “I am at a loss here, Mr. Eversham. I believed any contact, apart from a clasp of the hand, was unacceptable. But here you are telling me I can go further.”
“I am indeed.” His gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that set her skin prickling.
“I think you should demonstrate.”
He went still, as if he, too, was making some inner decisions. Was he beginning to wonder, as she was, whether their meetings were no longer about business? Whether there was something much deeper happening between them?
“If you will permit me?”
At her abrupt nod, he rose and sat close beside her on the sofa. Reaching out, he gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “This is quite acceptable. And here.” He traced the delicate curve of her ear. “And here.” He caressed her neck.
Tina felt herself becoming languid. She wanted to lean into him and kiss his mouth. She wanted him to touch her in other places, places she knew very well were unacceptable. She heard herself saying the words, shocked at her own forwardness.
“And where shouldn’t he touch me?”
His eyes met hers, a strange glitter in them, and then he reached out and touched the pale skin directly above her décolletage. For a moment, he hesitated, as if waiting for her to tell him to stop, and then his hand slipped inside her dress and stroked the swell of her breast.
“This is a definite no-no,” he rasped. His fingers lingered, brushing her soft skin, delving inside her chemise, until the tip of one finger actually came into contact with her nipple.
A river of heat ran through her, making her gasp. Reluctantly it seemed he removed his hand from her breast.
“I can see why,” she managed in a curiously prim voice for one indulging in such wicked behavior. “Is there . . . is there anywhere else I must not let a gentleman touch me, Mr. Eversham?”
“Oh yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “Most definitely.”
“Then I think you had better show me.”
“All of them?”
“It is important I know, don’t you think? To protect myself?”
“Oh yes, extremely important.”
His gaze swept over her, and again he hesitated. For an expert at seduction he was a little shy, Tina thought. He was supposed to be teaching her, and yet it was Tina who reached out to place her palm flat against his linen shirt and beneath that the hard heat of his chest.