Page 47 of His Wicked Little Christmas

For the space of a second, she looked uncertain. More understanding than he wished she had flashing across her face. Then the passion they generated floated back in, erasing her unease. “I know. And since you’re being a gentleman and asking, I’m saying yes.”

“I’m asking,” he murmured hoarsely, took her hand, and dragged her from the room.

Franny thought to tell him she had experience. A little.

To ease his concern. Because he glanced back twice as he hauled her along the darkened corridors, indecision marking his features. A slight frown dancing in and out of candlelight. His features starkly stunning, reminding her why she’d wanted to capture them on paper. Indecision even as his shaft jutted beneath the fine wool of his trousers, proof of his yearning. There was simply no way to conceal it, especially when it had been pressed like a stone against her hip.

Franny smiled tenderly. She was going to touch him.Soon.

And then she would fill a thousand canvases with his image.

She would discover what she’d missed before. When she’d let curiosity and a half-attraction mistakenly lead her to a man’s bed. A man she’d assumedlikedif not loved her. A man who had been her friend. A man who had falsely said no one else would want her.

Butthisman wanted her. So, she was letting him take her.

They stumbled down passageways, taking turns until she lost her way. Up a narrow, winding servant’s stairwell. Curving, curving. Where she finally stopped him, taking the higher step and his lips in a bruising kiss because she couldn’tnot. A persistent pulse began tobeat between her thighs, a rush of blood through her head. For the first time, she believed she was going to experience pleasure with someone, not merely her forlorn touch in the darkness of her bedchamber.

Chance moaned in silent, unwitting agreement, lingering, his touch trailing from her waist to her shoulders. Along every curve, and she possessed a few. Back to her breasts, where he filled his hands, his thumbs snaking over her nipples.

What he could locate beneath layers—layers she wantedgone.

Their harsh exhalations filled the confined space, echoes reverberating as she yanked his cravat free and let it flutter to the stairs.

Pulling himself from the kiss, he crouched to retrieve the strip of silk, then continued up, his fingers linked with hers. “We’re not tupping on the staircase, my eager girl.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze molten. “And yes, it’s possible. Not comfortable perhaps… but possible. Maybe someday, I’ll show you. Now, we need a bed.”

Then conversely, he made the trip to his chamber a challenging journey.

Stopping her at the top of the stairs, at each doorway they passed, a meandering, passionate exploration that carried them in circles down the hallway. As if he couldn’t go two steps without touching her. Working the buttons on the back of her gown until it hung off her shoulders. His cravat lost. A button on his shirt tumbling away from them and across the faded runner.

When they made it to his bedchamber, it was madness. She didn’t even stop to examine his personal space for the clues she desperately wanted to grasp about him.

Wrapping her in his arms, he kicked the door closed and murmured words she didn’t comprehend against her neck. His breath was sweet and hot, scorching her to her bones. He moved away only long enough to awkwardly remove his boots while she toed off her slippers. Then they challenged each other with snickering, gasping pleas and gazes that singed the air. Clothing became a puddle at their feet. Shirt, trousers, drawers. Gloves, gown, chemise, stays, stockings.

When they were done, they stood, panting, gazes roaming. There had not been time to look at the man she’d chosen to initiate her before.He hadn’t allowed it. And she’d been too apprehensive to ask. Fumbling in the dark, pain, then him leaving the bed to put on his trousers.

Chance Allerton allowed her curiosity free rein.

After a languid journey along the muscle and sinew of his finely toned body, she met his gaze. He had the physique of an active man. Unlike anyone she’d yet seen in theton.

His throat worked, his lids fluttering, his breath slipping out in a rush. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Andbloody hell, I really thought I knew what to expect.”

She started to argue, tell him he was mistaken. Thathewas the beautiful one. But he shook his head, backing her into the bed before she could. Where she went down. And he crawled over her.

She stopped him, hand on his chest.

He looked up, through a swing of tangled, damp dark-as-midnight hair. “Is this too fast?” His shoulders rose and fell. “Stop me. Tell me no.”

She giggled, trailing her finger down his chest to his belly. His muscles quivered beneath her palm. His cock was jammed between them, against her thigh, hard and hot. It twitched with his effort to hold himself back. She wanted to wrap her hands around it but wasn’t sure if she should. “I merely wanted a moment to look. I’m going to capture you on paper, like I’ve wished to formonths. I’m as enthralled with your body as you are with mine. I want to remember.”

His smile was glorious, softening his features, a sweetness that made her heart stutter. His eyes shimmered in the dim light, inviting her in. “There’s no bloody way that could be true, sweetheart. My adoration is fierce. More than I’ve felt in my life. Yours can’t compare, though I’m thankful for it.”

Then, he took her under. Weight pressing her into the mattress. Braced on his forearms, he kissed her hungrily, his hand finding her breast, his thumb her hardened peak. Circling, palming, until she lost reason entirely, her head rolling to the side. She arched into him, seeking more. Perhaps she even whispered it. Her body was melting, racing away from her and toward him.

With a muffled groan, he caressed his way down her body.

Sensation exploded as his lips circled her nipple, rolling it gentlybetween his teeth. “Shall I make you come like a proper Englishman, my American jewel? Very thorough but at a dignified pace. The English disposition is good for something, I suppose.”

He notched himself between her legs, working his hips from side to side. Deliberately, until her vision blurred. Dear heaven, she’d never imagined this was a whole-body experience. Skin slick from exertion, bodies grinding like they were polishing stone. Lifting her leg high on his hip, he leaned over her, working one breast, then the other with his lips and fingers.