Meeting his gaze, she stared into his eyes, arrested by the shadowy passion still visible in their depths. If he wanted, he could kiss her again; she knew she would make no demur. And if he wanted more of her than that? She wasn’t sure she would have the strength to deny him—or herself.
But to her mingled relief and disappointment, he laid no further temptation in her path. Instead, he released her. “You should go now,” he said in a flat tone. “And no arguing this time.”
She took a shuddering breath, realizing how easy it would be to let things go further, to let them go too far. Gripping the arm of the sofa, she pushed herself to her feet.
“G-good night, Dominic.”
When he said nothing, she forced herself to move toward the door.
“Emma,” he said thickly.
She stopped and turned back. “Yes?”
“Sweet dreams.”
In that moment she knew that all her dreams that night would be of him and that they would indeed be sweet.
Once Emma had left the room, Nick leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He listened to her footsteps ring out softly against the marble-tiled hallway, the sound fading as she made her way up the stairs.
In his mind, he followed, seeing her walk inside her bedchamber and reach up to take the pins from her hair. He stepped inside, then closed the door behind them. Her shining golden tresses fell in a lush wave around her shoulders and down the slim arch of her back, shimmering like a river of molten gold. Striding to her, he pushed the soft, sleek mass aside and bent to kiss her neck, entwining his hard arms around her supple, feminine curves. Sliding his palms upward, he covered her breasts and caressed the pliant flesh. He traced the shape, running his thumbs up and over as they both shuddered in delight. He reached for the buttons on her gown and began to unfasten them, one by one by…
Gah! he cursed, sitting up abruptly and giving his head a brain-clearing shake. His body wasn’t so easy to calm, his arousal as hard and heavy as some rough sailor’s on his first shore leave.
Blister it. Where is my control? He’d known Emma for all of two days, and yet here he was dallying with her, lusting after her.
I should never have agreed to kiss her. It was nothing short of insanity.
Yet he couldn’t lay the blame solely on her shoulders. In spite of her provocation—and there was no doubt that she had been provocative—he was still the experienced party.
The older—and supposedly wiser—party.
The one with sense.
The mature one.
Only he didn’t feel mature tonight. He felt as randy as a sixteen-year-old, and if it weren’t for his promise to behave like a gentleman, he’d have been upstairs right now, tossing up her skirts and having his way with her.
He could have had her. He knew that as well; she was green as new spring grass. Even now he could feel the way she’d trembled beneath his touch. How sweetly she had tasted. How naively eager yet hesitantly shy had been her every move, her every kiss.
And there was the problem—that damned innocence of hers.
And his own rather inconvenient scruples.
She might only be a governess, but she was still a lady born and a gentleman did not seduce a lady.
Then again, if his feelings were a simple case of lust, he could have found other means of dealing with his needs. There were plenty of women in London who were free with their favors. Unlike Goldfinch and Cooper though, he didn’t care for bawdy houses, no matter how well kept the doxies might be.
Instead, he’d had a casual arrangement over the years with the widow of a slain officer. He visited her on occasion—his attentions and the gifts of food and money he sent her afterward never seeming to go amiss. Yet in spite of the welcome he was certain he would receive if he showed up on her doorstep, he wasn’t interested in a visit tonight.
No, it was Emma he craved.
Emma he preferred.
And that was perhaps the most surprising thing of all—and the most troubling.
It wasn’t just her body he wanted; it was her.
Her laughter.
Her intelligence.
The quick perception of her remarks and the gentle kindness of her smile. The way her blue eyes sparkled with warmth and her lashes swept down with a hidden mystery he didn’t always understand and longed to figure out.
He wasn’t sure how such feelings were possible after such a brief acquaintance, yet there they were. If he weren’t careful, he could see himself falling in love.
Sitting up, he raked his fingers through his hair.
I shall simply have to be careful until she leaves, he warned himself. If only he were certain that he could so easily follow such self-imposed dictates. Perhaps it would be prudent to put some well-considered distance between them. There would be no repeat of tonight’s intimacy. From now on Emma White would be no more than a temporary guest in his house.