And left her there.
Uncertain, Georgiana watched him move to the wardrobe. Reaching behind his neck, he dragged his shirt over his head.
Without looking at her, he said gruffly, “You’d best get that dress off.”
Oh. With heat in her cheeks, she quickly unfastened the buttons at her throat. Her gaze followed Thom to the vanity. Oh, but he was a fine man—his back muscular and broad, his wide shoulders a smooth meld of flesh and steel.
Water splashed into a bowl. Thom’s eyes met hers in the oval mirror hanging above the vanity, then he looked down and began lathering his beard.
Shaving.
Her breath stilled. Thom had done this every time he’d come to her bed, but she’d never watched him before. His soapy fingers moved in sure, even strokes. With his trousers hanging low on his hips, he braced his left hand against the edge of the vanity and leaned in closer to the mirror. His weight shifted to his right foot, left leg slightly bent, and his back was not just a beautiful sculpture now but the most arousing thing she’d ever seen, the muscles bunching over his left shoulder and smoothing along his ribs, and the groove of his spine the perfect width for her fingertips.
The razor scraped over his jaw, the rasp of it like a slow abrasion over her skin. Her heart thudded, as if her blood suddenly ran thick. With trembling fingers, she finished unfastening her dress and stripped it off, leaving her clad only in a chemise.
Hands lifting to her nape, she began unpinning her hair. At the vanity, the razor clinked against the bowl before swirling through water. Tipping his jaw back, Thom scraped beneath his chin. Soapy water ran in thin rivulets past the hollow of his throat, down the center of his thickly muscled chest. Her lips parting in envy, Georgiana followed the soapy path in the mirror, until the lather slipped past the bottom of the oval frame.
When she glanced back up, Thom was watching her in the reflection. Tilting his head slightly, he scraped another swath up his throat.
“You’ll have me again, Georgiana?”
Have him. She clenched her thighs, trying to ease the sudden ache. “Yes.”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He glanced down. The razor clinked and swirled. “After the last time, I promised I wouldn’t risk hurting you again.”
And they’d both said and done and promised far too many things based on what they’d thought was true of each other, rather than what was true. “I think we should forget about all of the promises we ever made, and make new ones, instead.”
He nodded. With his thumb, he pulled the skin taut at the sharp corner of his jaw. The scrape sent another delicious shiver racing across her nerves.
“And, Thom”—she waited until he glanced up—“you didn’t hurt me the last time. I just didn’t know how to tell you how much I was liking it.”
He stared at her in the mirror for a long second, eyes narrowed. “That’s truth?”
“Yes.”
With a nod, he angled his chin, scraped away the last of the lather and whiskers. Water splashed. When he looked up, his strong jaw had been rinsed clean.
He turned toward her, not bothering with a towel. A swipe of his hand flicked the soapy water from his chest.
“Here’s my first new promise, then.” He rounded the foot of the bed, untying the front of his trousers as he walked. The thick weave strained across his heavy erection. “Tonight, I’ll have you over and over again.”
Oh, sweet God. Arousal pulsed through her in a thick, liquid beat. She rose up on her knees at the edge of the mattress, waiting for him. “And I’ll finally touch you like I wanted to.”
Passion roughened his voice to a growl. “You’ll get your chance when I’m done.”
All at once, Thom captured her face between his palms, and his mouth slanted over hers for a ravenous taste. With an eager moan, Georgiana wound her arms around his neck, opening to the stroke of his tongue past her lips. The scent of soap and wet, bare skin filled her senses. He clutched her to his chest, the damp linen of her chemise clinging to her br**sts.
All too soon, he broke the kiss. Standing against the bed, he pushed her back to the mattress. His big hands gripped her hips and dragged her bottom almost to the edge, hooking her knees up around his sides. Her chemise slipped down, exposing her thighs. Thom stilled, staring, and with a sudden groan, shoved her hem up over her thighs, her hips, higher, as if once he’d begun to bare her skin he couldn’t stop. Frantic with need, Georgiana helped him, lifting her bottom and wriggling the material free of her shoulders. He tore the chemise over her head before leaning over and taking her mouth again, hot and deep.
Cool metal slipped between her thighs. Georgiana arched up against his hand. “Inside me, Thom. Please.”
“Not yet.” He looked down at her, his face taut with strain. “Because I touched you last night, Georgie, but what I’ve dreamed of most isn’t what I’ll do with my hands.”
His head dipped to her breast. At the same moment his fingers pushed inside her, he latched onto the throbbing tip. His cheeks hollowed, sucking her nipple to a burning point.
Georgiana cried out, her body lifting in a rigid bow. Her hands fisted against the sheets. With a hungry moan, he lifted his head and moved to her other breast. Hot and wet, his mouth closed over her nipple. Between her legs, the rhythm of his fingers quickened, his thumb relentlessly sliding over her aching knot of flesh.
“Thom!” Overwhelmed by pleasure, Georgiana rolled her hips, her thighs tightening against his sides. “Thom, please!”