"You’re going to do…that, aren’t you?"
She waited for him to mock her mealymouthed phrasing, but his eyes were grave as they met hers. "If you really don’t want me to, I won’t."
She leaned back on her elbows and widened her legs to fit his imposing shoulders. "You’re set upon this course."
"If you agree, yes."
"I can’t see how it will give you any pleasure."
His lips quirked, and the sly knowledge in his expression had her shivering with anticipation, whatever her quibbles. "Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure."
"How very…unselfish."
"I told you that you married a prince."
Emily gave a disdainful huff of amusement then subsided into trembling silence as he untied the tapes holding her drawers up.
"Lift your hips for me," he murmured.
She cooperated. He’d seen her secret places before, but this time, something about his deliberately stated intentions awoke all her uncertainties.
Gently he straightened each leg and drew the sheer linen down, teasing her with every inch. Her drawers slipped over silk stockings and pretty pink slippers with their ribbons crossing over her instep and ankles.
He touched one of her pink embroidered garters, tied below her knee. She felt the contact like an earthquake. "Nice."
"Are you going to take off my stockings?" she asked in a shaky voice.
He leaned in to kiss the soft flesh behind her knee, flicking his tongue against her bare skin in a way that made her tremble. "I don’t think so."
"What should I do?"
When he spread her legs again, he didn’t glance up. Instead he stared at the apex of her thighs. Emily thought she’d overcome her old modesty, but she had difficulty resisting the urge to shield herself from his curiosity.
The strange thing was that while she remained deeply unsure about what was to happen, a whirlpool of arousal agitated her blood. And Hamish had barely touched her yet.
"Lie back and enjoy yourself. I’ll do all the hard work."
He usually did all the hard work. When they came together, her inexperience meant she ceded control.
As she lay back at his command, a wicked thought struck her. If Hamish gained such satisfaction from placing his mouth on her sex, could she return the favor? A week ago, the idea of taking his rod into her mouth would have revolted her. At this moment, the notion offered tantalizing possibilities.
The brush of his lips on her inner thigh wrenched her out of her depraved musings. When he ventured a little higher, her womb clenched in longing. She braced for him to kiss her cleft, but he began to stroke her legs and place soft, almost innocent kisses across her thighs and stomach.
Every time his lips skimmed across her skin, a bolt of heat sizzled through her. Those touches weren’t innocent at all.
Hamish started to linger on each kiss, varying the sensations until Emily whimpered with need. Sometimes he’d graze his teeth over a sensitive spot. Sometimes he’d give her a soft nip. Sometimes he’d use his tongue.
Her fingers curled into the velvet seat beneath her as thrill after thrill rocketed through her. Her vision of the pink and white angels painted on the ceiling grew misty. While her body softened into liquid readiness, hunger churned in her belly.
"Hamish, I want you," she gasped, wriggling forward to get closer to that tormenting mouth.
His grip on her thighs tightened. "Soon."
"Now, you brute," she said in a hoarse voice.
He answered her with a nip to the top of her leg. Then he placed his mouth over her and every muscle tightened in immediate reaction.
"Hamish!"