“May I slay you further?” she whispered.
“By all means,” he replied, unable to move. “Kill me now.”
His breath stopped. He couldn’t do anything but watch her. She stood in place, her hands on him unmoving, as if gathering up the courage to move forward. Then slowly, very slowly, she came up on her toes. Her weight shifted; he could feel her hand against his jaw, her other hand against his chest, pressing all the harder.
Then her lips brushed his. She was kissing him—lightly at first, just sliding her lips against his, then pressing with greater firmness. He set his hand against the base of her spine and kissed her back.
There was nothing else, nothing but her, the weight of her in his arms, the warmth of her breath, the soft press of her mouth.
“Rose,” he said against her lips. “God, Rose.” He shifted so that he could gather her up, so that the curves of her body slid against him.
She must have been able to feel his erection pressing against her, must have felt the tension in his arms as he held her close.
Usually at this point for Stephen, matters would have easily, swiftly progressed beyond a mere chaste close-mouthed kiss. But he’d promised Rose not to importune her—and no matter how urgently his body responded, there was something delicious about the slowness of the pace. He reveled in the sure knowledge that this would not be the last and only time he tasted her. He could slow everything down, enjoy the electric build-up of desire, delight in every gasp she gave.
“Have I earned a quarter of your evening yet, Miss Sweetly?” he murmured against her lips.
“I don’t know.” Her voice still had a quaver. “I need a little time to decide.”
She kissed him again. He could have fallen into a trance, kissing her. Feeling her lips against his, awakening her first ardor with brush after brush of the lips. He wasn’t sure when the kiss deepened, when he began taking her lips in his, when he first slid his tongue along her bottom lip. She responded with all the enthusiasm he’d ever hoped for, her tongue meeting his, tentatively at first, and then more boldly. He was lost in the feel of her. The space was close about them, warming to the point that the window nearest fogged over with condensation.
He wiped it clean, verified the clouds were still out in force—and then began kissing her again.
At some point, he simply lost his mind. Her hands had begun to roam and his had, too, cupping her br**sts—which fit, so nicely rounded, in his palm. A kiss was one thing; running his thumb along the neckline of her gown, undoing buttons halfway down her bosom, sliding it down and then leaning over and nibbling…that was another thing entirely. A lovely, delicious, wonderful thing. She tasted faintly sweet.
Maybe that was his imagination. Maybe he only thought so because she was making the most captivating noises, little moans in the back of her throat halfway to purrs. He let his other hand drift down, cupping the juncture of her thighs over her skirts.
She made no noise of protest, not when he pushed harder, not when he pressed the ball of his hand against her, rubbing in a slow circle. He took his time about it, easing off and then coming back harder, pulling away and then returning, until she was almost as desperate as he was, until her hips were pressing against his hand, until she came apart against him. He felt her orgasm shudder through her, her limbs trembling. It was an almost electric sensation for him, too, watching her eyes flutter shut, watching her give herself up to him.
Her breath slowed after. She opened her eyes, looked up at him.
“Half the evening, do you think?” He gave her a long, slow smile.
That was when he realized that darkness had fallen while they’d been kissing. From the window, he could see a few beginning flurries falling to the ground, scarcely visible in the lamplight from the street below. He had no idea how long they’d been engaged in such pleasantries.
“Rose?” he said. “Are you…?” But he didn’t know what to say beyond that. Are you in love with me? seemed too soon. The other words he burned to say—touch me here, do that to me—were too brazen. She was still dazed, unsure of herself, and slightly unsteady on her feet.
She still hadn’t said anything.
“Right, then.” He touched his thumb to her forehead, sliding it down the bridge of her nose. “Well. That settles that.”
“Settles what?” They were the first words she’d spoken in God knew how long. He couldn’t decipher the tone of her voice.
“We need more astronomical events,” he said. “Because I am not waiting until the year 2004 to do this again.”
Chapter Six
HE KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE as soon as the words were out of his mouth. As soon as he heard himself and realized that it sounded like an invitation to tryst with him, rather than an offer to spend her life with him. She straightened, pulling away from him.
“Rose.” He reached for her.