Then one hand left her breast; the other remained, pandering to her aching nipples, caressing the hot heated mounds, holding her wits, her senses captive. So she had no chance of thinking of anything else.
Until she felt the cool touch of air on her calves and realized his hand at her thigh was slowly, unhurriedly, lifting her skirt.
She didn’t just freeze—her entire body went rigid. Every muscle locked; she fought down and swallowed the urge to scream No!, battled to keep her hands where they were, gripping the sides of the open windows, rather than flailing and batting his away. Breaking free and running.
Blinking, mentally gasping, she struggled to subdue her reaction, tried to reorient her wits and her senses. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly; her pulse was tripping and racing, not pleasantly.
He’d stopped. Simply stopped. His hands didn’t move, either to press on or retreat. His body was still there, warm and hard against her back, his fingers still wrapped about one breast. His masculine strength was all around her, surrounding her, but not holding her, not restraining her.
He was waiting, patiently, to see what she would do.
Beat by shaky beat her heart slowed; her skittering wits calmed.
Slowly, his head lowered beside hers; gently he placed a hot kiss on her naked shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
The words whispered through her mind, uninflected, undemanding.
She closed her eyes, once more leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I…” She swallowed. “I want to go on.” She did. Desperately. She licked her dry lips, whispered, “But I don’t know if I can.”
His lips grazed her earlobe. “You can. We can.” His fingers her breast shifted, resuming their lazy caressing. Somewhat to her surprise, she didn’t stiffen; after a few moments, that insidious heat started to stir and rise within her again.
“Here’s how we’re going to manage this.”
His voice, although still low, had regained its dictatorial tones, but she sensed that in this, if she wished to argue he would listen.
“I desire you—you know that.” His words drifted past her ear, darkly seductive. “I’m going to touch you as a man touches a woman he desires.”
The statement elicited a sharp thrill—to her surprise not an unpleasant one; the thought of being touched by him in desire didn’t repulse her.
His voice continued, his drawl languid and deep, “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say ‘no.’ But think hard before you do, for if you say the word, I will.”
Eyes closed, held within his arms, she thought about that. “What if…?”
He seemed to follow her panicky thoughts easily, in itself a blessed relief. “If you want me to pause, to linger to give you more time to catch up, say ‘wait.’”
His lips cruised her shoulder, then he whispered, “If you want me to go more slowly, say ‘slow.’”
After a moment, he murmured, “Do you understand?”
She drew in a breath, conscious of his artful fingers at her breast stirring her senses to life again, setting pleasure once more coursing her veins, pooling within her. She nodded.
“Good.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m going to touch you, but it will only happen if you desire it. You have control. It’s mine, but I’ll make it yours.”
He couldn’t have said anything more reassuring. She was glad he was behind her and so couldn’t see the silly tears that filled her eyes.
She felt his hand at her thigh flex, tense, but he didn’t resume drawing up her skirt. Instead, she felt his gaze on the side of her face.
“Can I touch you, Phoebe?”
She held her breath and nodded.
His hand shifted, lifted.
She kept her eyes closed, the better to concentrate on her sensory perceptions, on her feelings.
Music reached her ears; the soprano’s voice floated sweet on the night air. The other guests would have returned to the music room. Yards away, she stood in the darkened alcove at the open window, her heated breasts bared to the night and him, an anticipation more definite than any she’d ever known infusing and driving her.
Holding her as her hems reached midthigh, then he flicked his hand and slid it beneath her skirts. His fingers trailed boldly over her garter and found bare skin. He touched, stroked, and she shivered.