Properly?
Oh, a host of lewd thoughts flitted through her head. “But that’s the man who is always so organised, so thorough. What happened to the reckless scoundrel who pushed me against the wall in a theatre cupboard, bunched my skirts to my waist and filled me full?”
Just the thought of it made her damp between the thighs.
“Storeroom, not cupboard,” he growled, adjusting his manhood through his black breeches. “Damn it, Sophia. Do you mean to seduce me in a moving carriage?”
“Is that what you want me to do, Finlay? Tease you into submission?”
“Love, the reality is you only need to flutter your lashes to bring me to my knees. But I can continue to play the stubborn oaf if you wish to test your methods of persuasion.”
Loving a man, made a difference when partaking in an intimate liaison. With William, she had shrouded her body in an unflattering nightgown and hidden under the coverlet. He’d been reasonably tolerant, extremely quick, a fact she had given thanks for during every Sunday Service.
With Finlay, she was compelled to take her time, wished to strip off her clothes and spread her legs wide. With Finlay, she would lay herself out like a feast and tempt him to gorge on every bare morsel.
But they were in a moving carriage.
The broom cupboard had been infinitely more spacious.
Still, the man opposite proved highly irresistible. She loved his hot mouth, his wicked hands, loved the way his thick shaft swelled inside her. She loved hearing his pants and moans of pleasure, loved seeing the fire in his eyes as he found his release. In short, she loved Finlay Cole and would make love to him atop the coachman’s box if he asked.
The carriage bounced over a rut in the road, forcing her to grab the overhead strap. “A lady should feel safe when riding over rough terrain.”
He arched a dubious brow. “Safe?”
“These bays are so fast I need something solid to anchor me to the seat.”
“Minx,” he muttered. “They use straps to secure luggage. Perhaps you might ask Sloane to design a lap belt.”
“A lap belt? What if we had an accident and I couldn’t undo the buckle?” Oh, she would have this obstinate creature inside her before they passed the next milestone. “No, it would have to be something that slips easily into place, something hard and substantial.”
“Hard and substantial?” The teasing charm in his voice heightened her excitement. “Like a harness?”
“No, one needs the freedom to bounce up and down without fear of being thrown to the floor.” Suppressing a grin, she raised her skirts and began untying her boot laces.
Finlay watched but said nothing.
Once free of her boots, she wiggled her stocking-clad toes. “Until Mr Sloane invents a means to ensure his passengers’ safety, I shall simply have to use the opposite seat as a brace.” She placed her foot between his open legs. “Like so.”
His mouth curled into a slow, sensual smile.
A smile that caused tingles to dance across her skin.
“Of course, I shall have to be mindful not to edge too close lest I do you an injury.” She shuffled her foot nearer to the bulge in his breeches, set about massaging his manhood with her toes. “You’ll let me know if I overstep the bounds of propriety.”
“I shall let you know the moment I find your manner inappropriate.”
“Excellent.” She continued to rub her foot over his erection. “You don’t mind if I remove my pelisse? I’m suddenly rather hot, a little damp in places.”
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” The rasp in his voice confirmed his mounting arousal. Indeed, he groaned with disappointment when she withdrew her foot.
She unhooked the buttons, slipped out of the garment and draped it beside her on the seat.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better. But I still feel a little flushed.” She clutched the seat and leant forward, offering him a glimpse of her cleavage. “Touch my forehead. Perhaps I’m suffering from a fever.”
He reached across and pressed the backs of his fingers to her brow, though his gaze dipped southward. “You do seem rather warm.”