what a beautiful trick.
Gingerly she went to work unfastening the front of his shirt with trembling fingers. He thought he would lose his control before she finally finished. But when she flattened her palms against his bare chest he concluded the sweet torture had been worth it.
“I can feel the strength in you,” she said. She gazed at his chest as if fascinated. “Not just your physical strength but the other sort, the more important kind of strength that comes from the inside.”
“Ah, Beatrice, you are the strong one.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and drew her down beside him. When he pulled her close she came to him with an enthusiasm that warmed everything inside him that had been cold for so long.
He kissed her until she softened against him, until she was making hungry, desperate little sounds in the back of her throat.
The hem of the chemise was crumpled high above her knees, revealing the dainty holster strapped to her thigh.
“I have never before considered guns to be a sensual enticement,” he said. “But this one has an oddly stimulating effect on me. Something to do with where you carry it, I believe.”
She gave a small, choked laugh.
He unstrapped the holster and the small gun very slowly and set both aside on the table beside the bed. Then he rested one hand on the silky bare skin above her stockings.
She took in a sharp, startled breath at the intimate touch but she did not pull away.
“So soft,” he said against her throat.
“You are so strong but you handle me as if I were made of crystal. I’m not fragile, sir.”
He touched the corner of her mouth. “I know that you have your own kind of strength, but a man could easily crush you if he were not careful.”
Laughter gleamed in her eyes. “You underestimate me, sir. Not your fault. It happens all the time. Indeed, my appearance of timidity and naïveté is my stock-in-trade. It is one of the reasons I am such a successful investigator. But you, of all people, should know that appearances are often deceptive. I am not the innocent you seem to think me.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you are a woman of the world?”
“Trust me when I say that my various careers have combined to teach me more about the world than most ladies will ever know in a lifetime.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I assure you that I know what I am doing now.”
“Then you are aware that I’m seducing you?”
“I know that I am allowing you to seduce me.” She brushed her mouth across his. “And doing my best to seduce you in return. I do hope I am having some success.”
A rush of exhilaration swept through him. He groaned and fell back across the bed, his arm around her waist. She sprawled on top of him, her stocking-clad legs entangled with his.
“Can I take that as a yes, Mr. Gage?” she asked.
“Yes, you can, Miss Lockwood.” He framed her face with his hands. “What of my own seduction efforts? Can I assume they are having some effect?”
“Oh, yes. Indeed, I would say that you have a psychical talent for seduction, but as you do not believe in the paranormal, there wouldn’t be much point.”
He touched her nose with the tip of his finger. “It’s true that I do not believe in paranormal talents. But I am a great believer in the merits of practicing a skill until it is perfected.”
“So am I.”
She kissed him again, exploring and tasting him. When she had finished with his mouth she nibbled on his ear and then her warm lips were on his throat.
“You smell good,” she whispered.
He grimaced. “I must smell like a man who has recently been in a fight and had to make do with a sponge bath.”
“Perhaps I should have said you smell interesting.” She kissed his chest. “Hot. Exciting. Manly.”
“Manly?” The word surprised a husky laugh from him, a low rumble that came from deep in his chest.
Beatrice laughed, too, but her laughter was light, ethereal, enchanting. She raised herself on her elbows and looked down at him with a mockingly stern expression.
“I do believe you are growling at me, sir,” she said.
“Never.”
He shifted abruptly, rolling her to one side. He pinned her beneath him and opened the front of the thin chemise. Deliberately he kissed the tips of her apple-shaped breasts.
“You are the one who smells good,” he said.