arched her back, pressing her breast into his palm more fully, shamelessly seeking more of his touch. “Those seem disparate colors. I am not certain I believe you.”
“Why?” He gave her breast a gentle squeeze, pressed a kiss to her ear. “The pink of your lips and the blue of your eyes are what have me hopelessly undecided. Of course, there are other parts of you that are delightfully pink as well…”
The wicked man.
She turned her head and caught his mouth in a kiss, cupping his jaw and holding him still while she plundered, taking control. He kissed her back with every bit as much fierce hunger. Beneath her bottom, she felt him stirring, his shaft going rigid once more.
An answering ache throbbed deep within her.
But she was not ready to abandon the sensual intimacy of their bath together just yet. This was the first time she had ever bathed with a gentleman, and she had to admit, she found the act intoxicating. There was a closeness achieved in the mutual baptism of the water, in the act of worshiping and cleaning each other’s bodies. She had never felt closer to another person than she did to Tom.
A frightening realization, that.
For she must not allow herself to forget the fleeting nature of their agreement. Friends with decided advantages, as Lottie had so wittily phrased it, did not form lasting entanglements. The new Hyacinth did not dare reach for anything other than pleasure and impermanence, both states she could trust. Not to mention the worries the Duchess of Arrington had brought to her door earlier…
Hyacinth ended the kiss before she wanted to, the reminder of the impending end of their affaire and her dismay over the duchess’s visit filling her with dread. Her eyes fluttered open to find him gazing at her, that dark brown gaze boring and intense.
But none of that seriousness now. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and recall what she had intended to ask him next. Ah, yes.
“Favorite scent?” she asked.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Much easier answer to that one. Tuberose and jasmine.”
She blinked. “That is my scent.”
The grin he gave her melted her insides. “Precisely.”
Oh.
A new sensation of warmth blossomed within her.
He smiled. “Yours?”
“Pine, citrus, and musk.” Which was his scent, of course. And she was not answering merely to compliment him. Her favorite scent in the world was Tom. She very much suspected it would always be, even after they had inevitably parted ways.
He made a low sound of approval and kissed her again, sealing their mouths, his tongue delving deep. All too soon, he ended the kiss. “Poetry or prose?”
“Prose,” she answered, breathless. “You?”
“Poetry,” he said, closing the distance between their lips again.
The kiss went on and on. When it deepened, he tore his mouth away. “Your favorite dessert?”
“How can I choose just one?” she asked, still breathless from their interlude.
“Rules of the game,” he quipped lightly, his gaze traveling over her face in a manner that made something deep inside her clench.
He made her heart pound. Never had she experienced anything in her life to compare to the way Tom made her feel. She felt as if she had spent years trapped in the cold darkness, in the absence of emotion and touch and desire. And then he had somehow emerged from the ether to save her. It startled her, every day, how much she looked forward to seeing him, how much she longed for him when they were apart. How much she spent their time apart longing for the time when they would be together once more.
“Chocolate gateau,” she said, deciding hastily. “But I would far prefer kissing you to all the chocolate in the world.”
He grinned, more handsome than any man had a right to be. Good heavens, what that smile did to her. They were alone in the tub, entirely naked, and he was hers for the remainder of the night. And yet she still felt a rush.
“Then mayhap you should kiss me, sweetheart.” His smile deepened. “Do you admit defeat?”
Defeat already? They had scarcely just begun.
“Nonsense,” she said. “You have not shared your favorite dessert.”
“Easy.” He kissed her swiftly before raising his head once more. “You.”
His words touched a place inside her she had not realized existed. She was warm everywhere, and in a way not even the water or the presence of his large, strong masculine body beneath hers could match.
“You cannot eat me,” she pointed out. “Your response is a violation