A Rakes Guide to Pleasure (Somerhart 2)

The line of his face changed as the flame wavered. She could read a frown in the tense line of his jaw. His long fin­gers spasmed. Emma watched them, remembering . . .

Her lips felt numb when she licked them. "Don't—" she started, but the word came out a whisper. Emma swallowed and tried again. "Don't get out of bed."

Hart jerked to awareness, startling her into a gasp. He was sitting up and facing her before she'd seen him move.

"Who's there?" he barked.

"Me," Emma answered. "It's me."

His wariness melted into confusion, but only for a moment. Then a feral smile appeared, flashing white in the dimness. "Emma." A leg snuck from under the sheets as he started to rise.

"Stop!"

He froze.

"Don't get up."

He glanced down to his legs and back up to her. "Shall I don a dressing robe?"

"No. Just stay there."

Confusion again. Hart rubbed a hand over his sleep-heavy eyes. "You're planning to join me? Consider yourself invited."

She could only shake her head, saving all her courage for her next request.

Somerhart's mouth sank into a scowl. "I don't know what you're about, Emma, but it's the middle of the night and you're in my room—"

"Take off the bedclothes," she said in a rush.

"I. . . Pardon?" He blinked. Twice.

Emma raised her chin. She hid her shaking hands and tried to make her voice as steady as possible. "I wish to see you naked. Push the coverlet aside."

He stared blankly for a moment, then emotions began to pass over his face like clouds: shock, curiosity, and then, finally, something fierce and hot and infinitely dangerous. "You're taking up my challenge, Emma?"

She curled her fingers tight and pushed herself straighter against the door. "Take off the bedclothes, now." She didn't want him thinking, didn't need his cutting commentary right now.

Her gamble paid off. After a long, arched look, Hart chose to comply. He held her gaze and reached down to the quilted green silk that hid his body.

Her eyes must be adjusting, because she could see the shape of him now, beneath the covers. And then he slowly swept them aside.

Emma held her breath at the sight of his nudity. His wide chest, the dusting of dark hair that trailed down over a hard, muscled belly and lower, to the thatch of black hair that sur­rounded his sex.

Her heart drowned out any other sound, but Emma was sure that she sighed. His body faced her, shoulders propped high by one elbow, and she had an unobstructed view of his thick erection. Even as she watched, it grew heavier, larger, as if it relished an audience. Emma watched until it grew so firm that it stood only slightly away from his stomach.

It looked made for her to wrap her hands around. Her belly melted into a knot of warm tension at the thought. Her hands clenched and unclenched, crumpling the delicate wool of her nightgown.

"Well?" he growled. "Do I please you?"

Oh, yes. Yes, he pleased her very much and he would do much more than please if she'd let him.

"Touch yourself," she ordered before she could give in and cross the room.

"What?"

"Touch yourself. I want to watch you . . . pleasure your­self." Her whole body clenched at her own words.

Shock again on his beautiful face, and then Hart's eyes narrowed, his brow fell. "No."