Her gaze narrowed and a half-smile tilted her lips. “Have you now? Oh, of course you have.” She rested a hand on his chest. “Well then, let me take this from another angle. Mr. Killam, you cannot be satisfied with only studying a subject in books, can you? As a scientist, would you not like to do some…some hands-on research of the topic?”
“What is the topic?” he asked, his breath coming short.
“You know the topic,” she whispered, those blue eyes burning up at him. “And I am offering to be your test subject. You see, I have also studied this particular subject extensively over the years.”
He dipped his head back with a groan. Damn it, but she tested him. She was asking for what amounted to ruination after years of mere friendship. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand it at all. And yet, he was a man, not a machine. He couldn’t just pretend that this suggestion, scandalously made, wasn’t so very tempting.
Couldn’t he take what she offered? Couldn’t he have this taste of utter heaven before he descended into the hell his father demanded? Didn’t he deserve that? And he didn’t have to ruin her, even though that was her request. He could do other things. Things he’d dreamed about doing to her. He had to be honest and admit they had always been dreams about her.
This was his only chance to pursue them.
He was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out his answer when he felt the brush of her mouth on his exposed throat.
“Henry,” she whispered, the words making swishes against his skin. “Stop thinking and hypothesizing and collecting evidence and just…touch me.”
Chapter 9
Evangeline could hear the strength of her own voice, the certainty, and for that she was glad. Because she felt none of it. Not when Henry’s arms were around her and her body was responding in ways she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel. Ways that set her off kilter and made this plan feel much more dangerous and reckless. She was never reckless.
But she didn’t have much time to think about that. He cupped her chin, tilting it up toward him again, and his lips came down to hers. He made a low groan in his chest, a very masculine sound of possession and pleasure. Between her legs there was a pulse of sensation and she gasped as she fisted her hand against his chest.
Back to the settee he pushed her, but this time when they reached it, he didn’t collapse with her on the cushions. Instead, he stepped back. “May I undress you?” he asked.
Her lips parted in surprise. Once he’d capitulated to her demands, she had not expected him to need any more consent from her. This was a man’s domain of taking and claiming and all those silly things. And yet here he was, asking permission. Allowing her to keep some control. It made her want him, want this, all the more.
“Yes. Please,” she whispered, shocked at how shaky her voice was now.
“Turn around,” he murmured.
She did so and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the bit of exposed skin between where her hair was bound and the top of the back of her dress. She jolted at the contact, her breath rasping out in a gasp.
He began to unbutton her dress. God, there were too many buttons. So many damned buttons, why had she worn the dress with all the buttons? Still, he made away with them, his fingers stroking the fine, silky chemise beneath. She struggled with the dress, pushing at it. This was about the claiming, and she wanted it now more than ever. For more than just her plan. She wanted to feel it.
To her surprise, he caught her arms and gently held them at her sides. “Don’t rush, Evangeline,” he said. “This is a first time for both of us—we should savor it.”
His words reverberated at the side of her neck, against the sensitive skin there, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against him as a part of her surrendered. But the rest of her fought. Fought to keep this experience in the realm of her plan. Fought to keep her from losing herself. She didn’t want to lose herself.
“We have little time,” she said, forcing herself to open her eyes again and stare straight ahead. “So little time.”
“We have enough time not to rush through this. What is the point of living if we don’t live?”
He turned her toward him and hooked his fingers around the shoulders of her gown. As he held her gaze, he tugged and the fabric folded down over her chest, her stomach, her waist. Another tug and it pooled at her feet, leaving her in only her underclothes.
Everything in her told her to yank the dress back up. To run. Not because she didn’t want this, but because she hadn’t fully considered the intense vulnerability of it. And she wasn’t even naked. According to those naughty books, she was going to have to be naked and so would he.
Of course, the part where he stripped down seemed more…interesting.
He reached for her a second time, but she stepped out of the way. His brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve changed your mind? It’s fine, you know. We can—”
“I haven’t changed my mind,” she interrupted, shocked again by the fact that he was not trying to rend control from her grasp. “I only think it isn’t fair that I’m standing before you in my chemise and you are fully clothed.”
“Ah, a quid pro quo then,” he said, nodding his head seriously even as his eyes twinkled. “Let me even the score, my lady.”
He was already somewhat in disarray, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal those surprisingly muscular forearms she had been so distracted by earlier. It didn’t take long for him to unwrap the cravat around his neck, dropping it aside. She caught her breath as he moved his hands to the four linen buttons that held his crisp shirt at the chest.
She could scarcely breathe as he loosened them, then tugged the long cotton fabric from his waistband and over his head in one fluid, graceful motion.
Her world stopped. She had always thought Henry handsome. He had an angular face, with beautiful lines and sharp eyes behind those spectacles. But she had not pictured…this beneath this clothing. He was all lean muscle and smooth lines. Not a fighter’s body or a warrior’s body. In past times Henry would not have wielded the heavy broad sword on the battlefield. He would have been the one in command.
Once again her body clenched at emptiness as she drank him in. What was she getting herself in to?
“You are suddenly pale,” he said, catching her hand. “May I get you your drink?”
She shook her head, speechless, and that was a rare enough occurrence. Finally she managed to squeak out, “I simply have not ever seen a man so…so undone before.”
He smiled and glanced down at himself with what she thought was a slightly nervous gaze. “I hope I am an interesting subject for your first study.”
“You are, indeed,” she murmured, pulling her fingers from his and moving forward to trace the fascinating lines of his bare chest. She felt drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, and that image shocked her system out of its fog.
Moths died in flames. That was exactly what she was meant to avoid by choosing Henry, by enacting this wild plan. She had to stop losing herself in the anticipation and thrill of this moment, and remember her goals.
She yanked her hand back and lifted it to her chemise. She pulled and it fell at her feet. And now she was naked. Exposed. She forced herself to lift her chin, observing how his pupils dilated and his hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to touch her but was holding himself back.