Dominick awoke to the distinct quiet of night giving way to dawn, and Calliope laid in the curl of one arm. She faced away from him, long masses of her hair splayed over his chest. With consciousness came good sense, which told him he should leave before he was discovered. The other guests wouldn’t wake for hours yet, but the servants would be up and about, and might see him slinking through the corridors.
He told himself he only needed one minute more, but once that minute had passed, he let himself have another, and another. He ran his fingers through her silken hair, raising it to his lips.
As a courtesan, he ought to be annoyed with himself for his performance the night before. He’d been as overeager as a boy having his first taste of pleasure, unable to even reach for the filthy words that were a signature part of his repertoire. He’d lost his grip on skill and finesse, abandoning the tricks that had once made the most experienced of women scream their shocked delight. He’d found he could hardly think with her gripping him so tight, let alone employ any of the techniques that had earned him his reputation.
As a man in love, however, he could feel nothing but soul-deep satisfaction. His eyes had been opened and he realized that despite all his skill, his persona as a courtesan had been nothing more than a game of smoke and mirrors—a facade that allowed his keepers to see or feel nothing of the man himself. He had given Calliope his all in a moment of raw vulnerability, and found no shame in that. Not that he wouldn’t be averse to introducing her to a wider range of pleasures now that she was no longer an innocent.
He had scoffed at the other courtesans who’d fallen headlong into the supposed trap of love, thinking that choosing one woman meant missing out on all the others. It had never occurred to him that other women would cease to exist for him in the shadow of one. Forsaking all others seemed like something to aspire to rather than to be avoided.
Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his other arm around her. She sighed when he kissed her shoulder, his lips skimming over smooth, bronzed skin.
“Wake up, goddess. Come, kiss me good-bye.”
She groaned, turning to face him. “Don’t go.”
He gave her hair a gentle tug, turning her face up so he could kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s nearly dawn. If I don’t leave now, we’ll be discovered.”
“But you’re so warm,” she murmured, wrapping an arm around his waist and draping a leg over his hips. “The fire’s gone out, but I hadn’t even noticed with you here.”
“I’ll be sure to start one for you before I leave. But you must let me go, otherwise, not only will we be caught, your lady’s maid is likely to get an eyeful. I’m going to want you again, and I doubt even her interruption would be enough to stop me. There will be plenty of time for lazy mornings in bed once we are wed. During our honeymoon, I refuse to let you leave the bed or dress until well after noon … and maybe not even then.”
She sat up, thankfully covering her breasts with the bedclothes. His goddess was far too delectable first thing in the morning, all that dark hair draping her shoulders, one bare leg peeking out from among the tangled sheets. He tore his gaze away and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
“And just where will this honeymoon take place?” she asked, watching as he slipped on his breeches.
“How do you fancy Paris?” he asked, striding to the hearth and shoveling coal into the grate.
“I’ve never been, but I think I would fancy it very much.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go. Though, you shouldn’t expect to see much of it. My rule against clothes will make it difficult for you to step foot outside the bedroom.”
She laughed, the sound low and husky, heavy with the remnants of sleep. It did things to him; things that made it increasingly hard for him to leave. He powered through his urges and continued dressing.
“We’ll go to your father after breakfast. Given your shameless seduction of me last night, I’d say it’s best.”
“If you expect me to apologize for it, I wouldn’t suggest holding your breath.”
He shoved his cravat into his coat pocket, not having