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“Perhaps we could find a way to enjoy ourselves in a more comfortable setting?”

“We haven’t even eaten our supper,” she said, but her knees were already weak.

Letty grinned. “Tonight, I plan to feast on you.”

She bent down and scooped Anne up, and Anne felt herself sinking into untold joy. She wrapped her arms around Letty’s neck as they left the unfinished room behind them.

“I want you,” Anne said quietly after Letty put her down in the guest bedchamber.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Anne frowned. It was impossible that her intent was unclear, wasn’t it? She tried to speak plainly. “I want you in bed.”

Letty laughed, the low rich sound filling the room with light and warmth, like firelight. “Yes, but how do you want it? Fast? Slow? Rough? Do you like staying in control, or do you want it stripped away from you?” She ran a finger down Anne’s throat and over her breast, finally resting her hand at her waist.

“Oh. All of those options sound good,” she managed to say, her legs trembling.There were options?Her heart hammered. Her previous affairs had been tidy, discreet, and delicate.

Ladylike.

She didn’t want to be a lady tonight.

Chapter Fourteen

Letty’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps you would like me to discover your secrets for myself? That suits me fine.”

What once had seemed so unattainable now felt so easy—they were but two women, sharing space and heat and desire. What could be more natural?

“I would hazard a guess that a duchess desires to be served,” Letty murmured, her eyes intense as they locked on Anne’s.

How was it possible for words alone to wrench such feelings of need and heat and lust from her?

The crackling of the fireplace roared in her ears along with her heartbeat. Anne licked her lips, unsure of what to do next, and watched as Letty’s eyes turned dark.

“Turn around,” she said. Her voice was husky now, and Anne could feel the timbre of it pulsing through her.

She turned, and Letty stepped so close that she could feel her unsteady breath on her neck. Good. She wasn’t the only one affected by this wave of passion that threatened to undo her with no more than a touch.

Letty unhooked the buttons on her dress, her fingers moving down her back as she worked. Then she spent an inordinate amount of time loosening her stays, lace by lace. Anne ached for the full press of those bare hands on her, freed of all the layers that distanced them. Finally, she took a fistful of chemise and pulled it up over Anne’s head and nudged her until she was facing her again.

Naked.

She had no time to feel shy because Letty cupped her neck in one hand and claimed her lips again, pulling her tight against her body. Her other hand was firm on her hip, almost possessive, and Anne thrilled at the touch that told her without words how much she was wanted.

Letty was still clothed, which didn’t seem fair. Anne writhed, the twill dress rough against her sensitive nipples. She was startled to find that she enjoyed it, and she was ready for more. This was the part where usually she would urge her lover to rush off her clothes and be done with it already, stealing kisses and touches during an illicit visit, speeding toward the quick press of fingers against her center where she needed it the most.

But Letty didn’t seem inclined to speed.

Instead, she drew Anne away from her and studied every inch of her body from her hair, still swept atop her head and secured by jeweled pins, to the tips of her toes, curling into the rug. The intensity of her gaze left trails of heat everywhere she looked. She had never been so bold with a lover, standing for the pleasure of being looked at. Anne shifted and noticed Letty’s eyes moving with her. A shiver of delight raced up her spine.

“I told you once if I had the opportunity to do what I want with you, I would look my fill.”

“You were speaking of my bedchamber at the time,” Anne managed to say.

Letty quirked a brow. “Oh, was I?”

“Yes.”

“I think we both know that I was speaking of you. Glorious, splendid you.” She looked her up and down again, this time lingering on her breasts, and on the curls between her legs. Her stare was as good as a touch. Almost. “If you hadn’t been born into riches, I daresay you could have made a marvelous living as an artist’s model.”