Their gazes fused. His scent, his certainty, the alluring pull of his leashed sensuality, entered her bloodstream, the same stealthy invasion every time he was close, until every part of her body filled with a keen awareness of him. His hand was next to hers on the countertop, but she felt it on her, curving around her waist as if their souls were ahead of their bodies and already embracing.
“Elias,” she said. “Could you do something for me?”
His face tensed at the sound of his Christian name. “Eh, tikram ayounik,” he replied.
For your eyes, literally, but it meant he would gladly give her whatever she’d ask for.
“Would you kiss me?”
A shaky breath escaped him. “See how bold you are,” he murmured. “Not cautious at all.”
He touched her waist, then slid his hand to the small of her back and urged her closer. His lips were soft against her forehead, awakening her skin with a rush of goose bumps from nape to toe. He inhaled, as if to savor the scent of her hair. They stood like this for a long moment while a tightness behind her ribs loosened, unspooled, until it dissolved into nothing. No more fear. Longing flowed like a warm current under her skin. She put her hand on his chest, and the ruthlessly contained energy inside jolted through her. Elias took a step back, and his eyes were sharp now with a singular hunger.
“Why me?” he asked.
She spoke without thinking: “When I’m with you, I don’t feel wrong. I feel . . . I just feel.”
His lashes lowered. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said huskily.
Chapter 22
Her clothes were dropping to the floor the moment she crossed into the bedroom. Elias had unbuttoned the front of her bodice on their way up the stairs, his arms coming round her from behind as they swayed toward the landing with their bodies pressed together. He was still behind her, unhooking her skirts from her bodice while she faced the bed. A pool of sunlight shimmered golden on the smooth counterpane. She had a strange sense of weightlessness, as though she consisted only of her breath and the rapid beat of her heart.
“What made you change your mind?” she asked.
“I haven’t changed it,” came his sarcastic voice. “I still consider this the worst decision I have made in a long time. I’m a fool to do it. Alas, I can’t keep from touching you. My hands dream of your skin.”
He was obviously aroused, but his fingers had been methodical with the buttons. Now the weight of her skirts loosened under his efficient hands. The layers of fabric and the bustle collapsed, down to her knees.
Elias moved around her and offered his hand with an air of chivalry, as though he wasn’t about to strip her naked and lie on top of her. With his assistance, she gingerly stepped out of the pile of contraptions.
His passion-bright gaze burned over her face. “If there are consequences, of any kind,” he said, “we make it right.”
It wasn’t an offer but a condition. Her mouth turned dry for a moment. She swallowed and moved her head a little; it could be a yes.
Satisfied, he eased the bodice off her shoulders, his thumbs skimming along the wings of her collarbone. The light touch sparked a tingling warmth in all her delicate pulse points, and she suppressed a moan.
“So silky,” he said in a low tone. “Are you certain about this, Catriona? Because I will put my mouth on every soft inch of you. I have wanted to do that for a long time.”
Hot color spread from her throat to the top of her breasts. He noticed, and his eyes went soft. “Hayeti,” he said. My life. “Such a bad idea.”
Her breathing was shaky. “We can regret it later.”
The bodice fell away, and her freed arms rose into the cool air on their own volition. Elias smoothed the corset cover over her head and let it sail to the floor, and her corset swiftly followed. He was down before her on one knee, his hands under her chemise, his shoulders moving while he rolled down her stockings. Every glance of his fingertips against the sensitive back of her knees sent a small shock to her core, making her clench. He tugged at her pantaloons. “I remember these,” he said, looking up at her with a wide grin. One of the pink ribbons was wrapped around his finger.
She was in her chemise, blushing and trembling. His smile faded and his eyes darkened. “Sit on the bed.”
The bedsprings creaked. Sunlight lay warm like a hand between her bare shoulders. He undressed in front of her, cravat, cuffs and collar, then the waistcoat, revealing richly embroidered braces. Who made these for you? He undid the top buttons of his shirt and a sunbeam glanced off the gold chain around his neck. Who gave you that? She lurched from one impression of male secrets to the next.