Page 48 of Lady Like

Collin’s house is empty when they arrive.

Havoc sleeps soundly before the fire, exhausted from their earlier adventure to Harry’s room and presumably his return home with Mariah.

His snores are so loud he must not hear their footsteps, or Harry’s certain he would have followed them as they climb the stairs to Harry’s bedroom and shut the door.

Harry shucks off her jacket and tosses it across the bench of her dressing table. She reaches for Emily, but stops when Emily cries, “Wait!”

Harry freezes, one hand raised between them. Her fingers tremble.

But then Emily retrieves Harry’s jacket from the bench and shakes it out. “You can’t leave it all rumpled. It’s far too fine.”

Harry watches as Emily folds the jacket carefully and sets it upon the window seat, wondering when taking proper care of one’s clothes became so arousing.

Emily turns to Harry. “There.”

“Anything else you want to tidy up?”

Emily makes a show of looking around the room. “You could do for some dusting. I’ll get a cloth.”

“Oh hell.” Harry grabs Emily around the waist as Emily pretends to start for the door, and Emily shrieks, letting herself be pulled into Harry’s arms. She twists around so they are face to face, hips together, and Emily’s gaze is so heavy Harry wants to wrap it around herself like a blanket.

“What now?” Emily whispers.

“Now?” Harry says. “I kiss you.” Harry takes Emily’s hand in hers and kisses it like they are being introduced at a ball, then takes the glove between her teeth and tugs it off.

She touches her mouth to Emily’s palm, lips skimming the heel of her hand, and holds their hands together between them until Emily presses it to Harry’s cheek.

Oh that I were a glove, Harry thinks. She touches her nose to the soft corner of Emily’s jaw below her ear, weaving her fingers through Emily’s hair.

When she pulls, Emily tips her head back like she is catching rain on her face.

Harry kisses Emily’s cheek. Her jaw. The angled bones of her shoulder.

She pushes back the sleeve of Emily’s dress and rests her cheek there, the skin like the pearled inside of a seashell, as she murmurs her name.

She can taste Emily’s perfume. She wants it to rub off on her.

She wants to wake in the morning exhausted and bruised and carrying the scent of Emily.

Emily falls backward upon the bed, unfurling like a spool of thread with her arms thrown over her head.

Harry climbs atop her, one knee on the mattress as she pushes Emily’s skirts up to her waist. Beneath her chemise, Emily’s legs are white and dimpled, her knees round caps and the skin behind them soft as sable gloves.

Harry cups Emily’s calf, sliding her stockings down one leg, then the other.

The ribbons of her garters flutter to the floor.

Harry strokes the soft inside of Emily’s thigh with the backs of her fingers, watching as the fine hairs there rise.

These places that not even the sun has touched before, now hers.

Harry’s own skin trembles at the thought.

Her breasts feel heavy and piqued as she runs her hands along Emily’s thighs, and then between her legs.

Emily’s breath trembles. Harry kisses the crease of Emily’s leg, the space below her navel, the brittle peaks of her hip bones.

Emily shudders, reaching out suddenly and seizing Harry’s shirt. “Take this off. Please, take it off now.”

“Anything for you, Miss Sergeant.”

“Oh God, you villain!” Emily pounds a fist against Harry’s chest with a stifled moan. “Calling me Miss Sergeant when you have me in your bed.”

“Does it bother you, Miss Sergeant ?”

“Oh, damn you!”

“No, don’t curse at me,” Harry cries, catching Emily around her wrist and pressing her hands to Harry’s heart. “I can’t bear it, this will be over before it’s begun.”

Emily sits up and Harry finds she is kneeling over Emily’s lap.

Emily had felt so fragile in her arms when they danced, but suddenly, she feels strong, taking Harry’s weight on her bare thighs.

Harry cradles Emily’s face in her hands, pushing her hair back before she kisses her.

She feels Emily’s hand between them, open across her skin.

“Undress me,” Emily says, her mouth against Harry’s.

“As you wish,” Harry replies. “Miss Sergeant.”