All but collapsing under his weight, Catriona, suddenly suspicious, looked up into his face. His eyes met hers, still dark as the night, his gaze still vague and unfocused, his lips were still set in that boyishly open smile.
He was still… dreaming.
Shifting her feet so she could better support his weight as he slumped, unrestrainedly heavy, against her, Catriona muttered a curse and struggled to ease him around the chair.
"The bed," she stated.
"Oh, indeed," he averred. "It's definitely time for the bed."
His devilish chuckle ensued; she shut her ears against it. If she hadn't known she'd drugged him, she would have thought him drunk-he could barely set one foot before the other. Certainly not in a straight line.
"Keep looking at the bed," she instructed as they lurched heavily toward the door. "Look-it's over there." Exerting all her strength, she managed to turn him and get them back on course.
"Never had such trouble in my life," he said, not sounding terribly concerned. "Usually know precisely where the bed is." After two more heavy steps, he added: "Must be that whiskey. Hope I'm not too drunk to accommodate you."
Gritting her teeth with the effort of holding him steady, Catriona didn't reassure him. And then wished she had.
"Never mind," he murmured, and threw her a lecherous leer. "If I am too debilitated, I'll just tease you until the effect wears off."
Catriona closed her eyes fleetingly and stifled a groan. What had she done? She'd willingly taken the principal role in the dreams of a rake. She must have been mad.
But it was too late to draw back. Far too late. Aside from anything else, no matter how frantic she had to get, she wanted to reach the end of the hot, steamy, heated road he'd started her upon.
She definitely wanted to be hot and needy, and to feel him enter her.
Three more lurching steps and they reached the side of the bed-the opposite side to the one they'd started out for. Catriona was simply relieved. "There!"
Swinging him around so his back was to the bed, she placed both palms against his chest and shoved. He obligingly toppled back across the bed-but took her with him.
Landing half-across him, Catriona couldn't manage even a squeak. She immediately wriggled, fighting free of his arms but not of his hands-they were everywhere. She tried to ignore them. "We have to get you undressed." At least undressed enough.
Predictably, he chuckled. "Be my guest." Flinging both arms wide, he lay back And grinned.
Catriona narrowed her eyes at him and tugged his cravat free. She flung it over the end of the bed, then, kneeling beside him, grabbed the lapel of his coat. No matter how she tugged, she couldn't get it even close to his shoulder. Exasperated she sat back, and noticed that his chest was quaking, even though his expression remained guileless.
She glared at him. "If you don't help me undress you, I'll leave."
Laughing softly, he rolled onto one shoulder, then sat up. "It's impossible to get a well-cut coat off me without my help."
Catriona humphed. She watched as he shrugged the coat off and sent it to join his cravat. Impelled by she knew not what, she reached out and ran her hands over his chest, pressing aside his waistcoat to explore the wide expanse. Beneath her questing hands, muscles shifted, rippled,
then set. He caught her wrists and yanked her to him, then bent his head and kissed her.
She sank into his embrace, felt the heat surround her, rise within her, lick tantalizingly up her spine as he gathered her closer. With a mind of their own, her fingers quickly undid the buttons of his shirt, then slid inside, spreading wide over warm tight skin, over ridged muscles, hard bands of hair-dusted flesh.
He broke from the kiss with a soft curse. From beneath her lashes, she saw him fight free of both waistcoat and shirt and fling them aside. She also saw one hand drop to his waistband, undoing the buttons there. Closing her eyes quickly, she reached for him, relieved when he captured her lips with his and kissed her witless.
He shifted, coming up on his knees and guiding her back, down onto the bed. She sank back obediently, eyes closed, silently willing him to be quick.
His weight shifted on the bed; she heard the dull thwacks as his shoes, then his trousers hit the floor. She kept her eyes tight shut-she definitely wasn't going to look. Then she felt him beside her; he leaned over her, and his lips covered hers.
He kissed her deeply, commandingly-more intimately than before. He took her mouth as if she'd offered herself; in a way, she supposed she had. The claiming was complete, unrestrained-as if even asleep he knew she was his. His for the taking.
And he took.
Somewhere along the line, she opened her senses, let them reach and tell her what her eyes could not. She set her hands exploring, over the smooth acres of his chest, tight and hard under her hands and roughened by crinkly hair, then over the rounded curves of his shoulders. Flexing her fingers into the steel of his upper arms, she lifted against him, driven by his kiss-he was leaning far over her, his body, hot and hard, a mere inch from hers.
He was lying beside her, his hip against hers, his body radiating heat and a sensuality that wrapped about her, about them, and shielded them from the world.