need something from my room.”
He frowned. “You’ll take a chill. Tell me where it is and I’ll fetch it for you.”
“I won’t take a chill.” She reached for her shift.
He caught her wrist. “Don’t put it back on,” he said intently, as if he thought she might not take it off again. “What do you need?”
She gave in. “It’s in the drawer of my night table. It’s a sponge.”
“A sponge?”
She shoved at his shoulder. “Just fetch it. You’ll see.” She sat cross-legged on the bed to wait for him.
He was back in a few moments, staring at the little sponge with its trailing thread. “What’s it for?”
“It’s to keep me from finding myself in an interesting condition,” she explained. “Have you got vinegar?”
Enlightenment dawned. “Of course.” He pulled a small glass bottle from his worktable and, unstoppering it, poured some of its contents into a little dish.
“It is vinegar, and not deadly acid?”
He dipped a finger in the bowl. Before she knew what he was about he was sucking the vinegar off, slowly and teasingly, and heat flooded her even as she made an unconscious noise of protest. But he didn’t scream or blister, so getting off the bed and taking the little sponge from him, she began methodically soaking it in vinegar.
“Why do you still have this?” he asked suspiciously.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “I stole it from Sophy that time I tried to seduce you.” She hadn’t needed one since she left her last protector. She had vowed never to use one again. Never to be vulnerable again. Never to let anyone see her naked—never to let anyone see her at all. And now here she was. She tried not to think about it.
“Serena—”
“Yes?”
“Why did you try to seduce me?”
Serena eyed him warily, but he just looked curious. “I didn’t want to sleep alone after my nightmare.”
He stared at her. “But of course you couldn’t just ask to sleep in my bed. No, that would be too easy.”
“I hardly think doing it my way would have been such an ordeal,” she snapped, and a little happy grin appeared on his face that made her want to—
“Can I put it in?”
“What?” she asked, startled.
“Can I put the sponge in?”
She looked at it, and at him. “Why?”
“Because it’s interesting,” he said as if it were obvious. “Does it kill the pox, too?”
“I doubt it. You haven’t got the pox, have you?”
He shook his head. “Well, can I?” He looked so fascinated that for an instant, before her better judgment reasserted itself, she was tempted to give in.
“Perhaps another time,” she conceded, and didn’t even realize what she’d said until she saw the glowing flush on Solomon’s face, and then she could hardly regret it.
In her haste she fumbled with the sponge, and for a moment she was afraid that she wouldn’t remember how to put it in properly, it had been so long—and then it was in and she couldn’t wait any longer. “Take off your shirt.”
She leaned back against a bedpost to watch as Solomon slid off his braces and pulled his shirt out of his breeches, not quite as deft with his own clothing as he had been with hers. She gave him a predatory smile and slid a hand under his shirt. His stomach was hot under her palm and his gasp sent shivers up her spine. She hummed in satisfaction and pulled the shirt over his head.
A quick tug, back and down, left his chest and shoulders bare and his arms trapped behind his back by the inside-out shirt. She ran her hands over his shoulders—they were pale and freckled and broad, and when she squeezed a little the muscles in them jumped and Solomon made a low growling sound in his throat.
Dear God, his upper arms. It was unfair that anyone should have arms like that. She pressed a hand against his chest. His lungs expanded and contracted, and his heart raced beneath her palm. He made no move to free his arms from their tangle of shirt, just watched her hands on his skin as if they were his hope of heaven. She let them wander lower, and finally set about unbuttoning his trousers. He stood very, very still until she slipped her hand inside and wrapped it around his cock. Then he bucked forward, once, as if he couldn’t help it. He shut his eyes abruptly and made a sound that had no voice in it, only