And he took her mouth in a fiery kiss.
She was desperately glad that he wished to kiss her so.
She loved the feel of his mouth upon hers. She would have kissed him every hour upon the hour if such a thing were possible. Nothing was better. Not even the Ladies’ League of Rights, which seemed like a terribly treasonous thing to say.
But in his arms, the whole world slipped away and there was not a single bit of trouble to think on. There was only pleasure.
Only him.
Will slid his hands to her skirts and lightly took the silk in his hand. He guided the hem upward, exposing her stockinged calf.
“Here?” she asked, stunned.
“Here,” he replied. “I want to have you in every room, Beatrice.”
Her cheeks burned at that idea whilst it thrilled her to her very toes.
Did he want her so much?
Did he think of her throughout his long work hours, as she did him?
He trailed his hand up her thigh, under her chemise, then slid to the softness at the crest of her legs.
She bit her lower lip, holding back a moan.
He stroked her for a moment, but it did not seem to be enough to him.
And then he was sliding down to the floor, bracing his knees on the dark blue rug.
“What ever are you about?” she demanded, rather disappointed.
“Do you wish me to stop?”
“I don’t know,” she countered. “Will I like it?”
Desire darkened his eyes. “I believe so.”
“Then no,” she breathed, “do not stop.”
“Good,” he said as he placed his hands on her thighs and pulled her toward him.
A cry of surprise escaped her throat.
He tugged her into the position he wished before he tucked the cushions about her so she was comfortable.
“Now I want you to think only of me,” he demanded.
How could she think of anything else?
She was most curious. He was acting so mysteriously. And she felt quite odd, her thighs nudged apart, laying back.
And then William kissed the inside of her thigh.
She jumped.
“Does it tickle?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” she breathed.