his mouth when she untied the tapes holding her petticoats and they slipped down to froth at her feet. The white globes of her buttocks pressed against the frail shift. His hands curled into fists, as another jolt of arousal shook him. His breath emerged in rough gasps.
She stepped away just before the temptation to shape that round softness overcame him. When she turned, the view from the front was even more enticing than the view from the back. The corset pushed up her breasts. Dark pink nipples, hard and needy, were visible under the linen. The loose shift hinted at shadowy secrets between her legs.
The long delay must eat at her, too, because her hands were clumsy with haste as she ripped at the hooks down the front of her plain corset. If she was his and not just a temporary lover, he’d array her in underclothing to make a courtesan blush. That magnificent figure deserved a magnificent setting.
His anticipation rose as she slid the corset off and dropped it on the floor beside the rest of her clothes. Then with a determined air, she grabbed her shift and hauled it over her head. As she tossed this last garment aside, she raised her chin.
"You beggar my dreams," he whispered in awe. He straightened, his gaze fixed on her. "You’re perfect."
"I want to be perfect for you, Brock." Her features were stark with need. "I want to cut so deep into your soul that you never forget me as long as you live."
"You have," he muttered, too overcome to hide the truth.
His gaze traveled over her creamy curves, the high breasts with their crests beaded with arousal. The plain of her stomach above the nest of golden brown curls.
Color tinged her cheeks, but she remained unmoving as he stepped closer. He brushed the fall of hair back from her shoulders, until he gained an unhindered view of her body.
His touch was light, even as devils of lust and possessiveness warred inside him. He skimmed his hands down her arms and along her spine and felt the quiver that belied her defiant stance.
Deliberately, he didn’t touch her breasts. He caught up one silky skein of hair and brought it to his lips. Her scent rose to his nostrils, rich and heady, tinged with jasmine. With a hum of pleasure, he rubbed the silky tress against his face. She made a choked sound and leaned forward.
His control shattered. He dragged her into his arms and kissed her with all the passion he’d leashed until this moment. She twined her arms around him and pressed closer with an untamed hunger that made his blood pump hot and hard.
He swung her in his arms until she bumped into the bed and collapsed back in a beguiling jumble of bare arms and legs and drifting hair. He didn’t follow her down. Instead, he ripped off his neck cloth and coat and flung them aside.
She watched him, eyes avid with hunger. "More," she said in a low growl that threatened to set him alight.
His laugh betrayed a crack. "I’m madam’s obedient servant."
"Good." She lifted herself on her elbows so she could see him better. The movement jostled those lush breasts.
Before she came to him, he’d wondered whether she’d be a timid lover, reluctant to step outside the bounds of propriety. He loved how wrong he’d been.
Now Selina made no attempt to cover her nakedness but seemed to bask in his admiration. He took a moment to relish the sight of her white body sprawled over the sheets. Her wild mane of hair fanned about her in rippling amber and flax.
Brock shed his waistcoat and shirt in a hurry. When he stood before her bare-chested, she released a voluptuous sigh of appreciation. "You’re a beautiful man, Lord Bruard."
For years, women had told him he was handsome, but the sheer wonder in Selina’s tone had him blushing. That hadn’t happened since he was a boy in the Highlands, chasing his first lassies. "Thank you," he said gruffly.
She raised her hand in a languid gesture. "My pleasure."
He chuckled. "That sounds like an invitation."
That luscious mouth with its full lower lip curled in a wicked smile that a day ago he’d never have imagined he’d see on prim Mrs. Selina Martin’s face.
"Clever as well as decorative. What a lucky girl I am." She must have seen he was on the verge of jumping on her – hell, he was so ready for her, he was close to coming. Only