This was George, and she loved him.

She felt his hands move to the fastening of his breeches, and then he swore under his breath as he was forced to roll off her in order to (in his words), “get the bloody things off.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at his profanity; he seemed to be having a much rougher time of it than she imagined was usual.

“You’re laughing?” he asked, his brows rising into a daring arch.

“You should be glad I was already out of my gown,” she told him. “Thirty-six cloth-covered buttons down the back.”

He gave her a fearsome look. “It would not have survived.”

As Billie laughed, one of George’s buttons finally went flying, and his clothing fell to the floor.

Billie’s jaw dropped.

George’s smile was almost feral as he climbed back onto the bed, and she had a feeling he was taking her amazement as a compliment.

Which she supposed it was. With a healthy dose of alarm.

“George,” she said cautiously, “I know that this will work, because, goodness, it has worked for centuries, but I have to say, this does not look comfortable.” She swallowed. “For me.”

He kissed the corner of his mouth. “Trust me.”

“I do,” she assured him. “I just don’t trust that.” She thought of what she had seen in the stables over the years. None of the mares ever seemed to be having a good time.

He laughed as his body slid over hers. “Trust me,” he said again. “We just need to be sure you’re ready.”

Billie was not sure what that meant, but she was having a difficult time even thinking about it because he was doing very distracting things with his fingers. “You’ve done this before,” she said.

“A few times,” he murmured, “but this is different.”

She looked at him, letting her eyes ask her question.

“It just is,” he said. He kissed her again as his hand squeezed its way up the length of her thigh. “You’re so strong,” he said softly. “I love that about you.”

Billie took a shaky breath. His hand was at the top of her leg now, spanning the whole width of it, and his thumb was very near to her center.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

“You keep saying that.”

His forehead rested against hers, and she had a feeling he was trying not to laugh. “I keep meaning it.” He kissed his way back down her neck. “Relax.”

Billie wasn’t sure how that was possible, but then, just before he took her nipple in his mouth again, he said, “Stop thinking,” and that was an order she had no trouble following.

It was the same as before. When he teased her this way she lost her mind. Her body took over, and she forgot whatever it was she’d thought she feared. Her legs parted, and he settled between them, and then oh God, he was touching her. He was touching her and it felt so wicked and so divine, and it just made her want more.