Page 38 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

The corner of her mouth hesitated before curving softly. “Tell me,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering, “what to do. Step by step.”

Stan’s smile remained firmly in place even after he looked at his hands for a moment as if stifling a laugh, and he licked his lips, though the sharpness in his dark eyes made her painfully aware of how close he was now.

The space between them no longer felt like a barrier but a thread, a mere breath away from binding them together.

Enveloped by his warmth, she could almost count the seconds between his subtly uneven gasps of anticipation.

“Are you trying to memorize the steps?” he teased, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

“Of course,” she replied, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap to steady herself. “It’s a simple operation, isn’t it?”

Stan tilted his head, amusement softening the sharp cut of his features. “No.”

Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face. “But anyone can do it.” She fought to keep her voice confident, but there was no masking the nervous energy bubbling beneath her words.

“Not well, no,” he said, his gaze unwavering, as though he were daring her to challenge him.

That slight smirk tugged at his mouth again, and Wendy stiffened. “How do you know?” she asked, her chin lifting stubbornly. “Do you have so much experience?”

His brows rose slightly before his expression sharpened into something more deliberate. “Yes.”

Her stomach twisted, heat rushing to her cheeks as she leaned back abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. “I don’t like that.”

The smirk just came, and he seemed genuinely happy. Flattered. “Are you jealous?” he asked, his tone light but far too knowing for her comfort.

She hesitated, considering his question. Was she? Every inch of her pride tried to push the thought away, but honesty wasn’t something she could easily deny—and not with him watching her like that. Finally, she gave a small nod. “Yes.”

Then she gasped and covered her mouth with her right hand. “Oh dear! It’s terrible! I’m… I’m a bad person!”

“You could never be,” Stan said teasingly.

“B-but jealously is not nice. Soon, I’ll turn green with envy and—”

The sharpness in his gaze softened, replaced with something that made her pulse quicken. “You don’t need to be,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer. “I have an inkling you could kiss me breathless, so thoroughly I’d forget everyone before you.”

Wendy’s breath caught, her heart pounding harder with each beat. She tried to speak, to counter him with something witty or clever, but his words rendered her silent. Her arms dropped as her fingers gripped the folds of her gown in her lap.

“How?” she finally managed, her voice quiet and uneven.

“With affection.” His voice dipped into something rich and warm. “I’ve certainly never felt about anyone the way I do about you.”

A pang of sadness wrung her heart, her thoughts quieting into an ache she dared not fully examine.

“Me neither,” she admitted, the honesty in her voice surprising even herself.

Stan’s smile softened, as though her words meant more than a mere agreement. “Then may I kiss you again? Please?”

She blinked, her resolve returning as if sparked by his quiet invitation. Slowly, she gave a small but determined nod. When he leaned in, she followed, closing the space with a surge of courage.

Her breath mingled with his, her pulse racing as she prepared for this moment—not as a timid heroine from a storybook but as herself, Wendy, who was ready to learn something new and face it head-on.

*

Stan leaned closer, his breath mingling with Wendy’s, a shared warmth in the chilly confines of the carriage.

His eyes traced the curve of her lips, soft and slightly parted, as if inviting him forward.

He fought the pull of instinct, held himself in check—not out of propriety, but something far more thrilling.

“Wendy,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his pulse raced faster than any words could admit. “If you’ll trust me… part your lips. Gently. Just a touch.”

She did—tentatively, hesitantly, her gaze flicking between his mouth and his eyes, searching. The uncertainty in her expression was as endearing as it was intoxicating.

He swallowed hard. “Now, if you wish, close your eyes, and follow my movements. Copy me.” His thumb brushed her cheek—a light, fleeting touch, enough to calm her while his restraint frayed. “Grant me access, Wendy. Only if you wish it.”

Her lashes lowered, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure she understood. But then her lips softened beneath his, telling him everything. Her tentative trust opened the door just wide enough to unravel him. He pressed forward, capturing her mouth and coaxing her into an entirely new experience.

This was not a tumble as earlier at Cloverdale House.

This was deliberate.

Intentional.

Thrilling.

Heat spiraled between them, slow at first, a warm tendril winding through the cold air of the night. Her lips yielded to him tentatively, her inexperience painfully sweet and wholly undoing. He deepened the kiss, and for a moment, the air around them vanished.

Stan tried to focus, to continue his whispered instructions, but the taste of her—like something forbidden and stolen—drew the thoughts right out of his head. She was delicious, soft, and utterly consuming.

Her hands, he noticed, hovered awkwardly between them, fingers curling and uncurling like she wasn’t sure what to do.

He grinned faintly against her lips and pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough.

“Your hands,” he whispered, taking them gently and guiding them upward.

He placed them against his chest, a solid barrier of warmth beneath her touch. “You can touch me anywhere you want.”

Her fingers trembled briefly before sinking into the fabric of his coat, her gaze darting back to his. “Me too,” she whispered, her voice husky, desire threaded through her words.

Her hands drifted upward, threading into his hair, her touch bolder now.

She raked through the strands, and the sensation pulled a shiver from him that he couldn’t suppress.

His mouth moved against hers again, possessive now, and when her tongue darted out to brush his lower lip, he groaned low in his chest.

Stan opened his mouth, and she flicked her tongue hesitantly into the warmth of his.

He didn’t guide her this time, couldn’t have spoken if he’d tried.

Instead, he cupped the back of her head and tilted her just enough to take her deeper.

When she mimicked his movements, shyly at first but with growing enthusiasm, it felt as though his heart cracked to lock her in.

A deep, guttural growl escaped him, raw and unbidden. Wendy broke the kiss only to catch her breath, her chest heaving against his own. Her wide eyes sparkled with mischief and discovery as she whispered, “I know this sound now.”

Stan blinked at her, still half-reeling, his breath ragged. “What is it?”

Her lips curved into a small, devilish grin. “The sound of seduction.”

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, the words a spark in the tinder of his desire.

With no further warning, his hands slid lower, tracing down her back, over the curve of her hips.

She gasped softly as his grip tightened, and in one fluid motion, he grabbed hold of her bottom and lifted her.

Wendy moved without hesitation, her skirts brushing his legs as she straddled him. For someone so new to this, she was a quick learner. Talented. Hands-on indeed.

And Stan knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he could never keep his hands off her.