She was a woman, with a woman’s desires, even if she had never been tempted to act on them. He could tempt her to act on them.
Seven minutes. He was going to risk it. Not as a calculated attempt at seduction, but because she was here, she was in his arms, and he might never get another opportunity. Because he wanted her, and he wanted her to know it. And he wanted to make her want him.
His hands clasped her waist, lifting her even as he insinuated his knee between her legs. Her hands, which had been sifting so gently through his hair, at once caught great handfuls of it instead. Her lips broke from his with a gasp of alarm, and he floundered for a way to keep her from surfacing from the sensual spell he’d woven around her.
“James,” she whispered fiercely, her hands releasing his hair to settle on his shoulders in an effort to steady herself, as he’d managed to lift her clear off the ground, pinning her to the wall by her skirts. Her thighs squeezed around his knee as if to repel it, but her hips shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t know how to handle him, how to escape the pressure of his knee between her legs, and couldn’t seem to stop herself from moving restlessly. “James, you cannot—”
“Yes,” he said, “I can.” He caught her hips in his hands, rocked her against him, and heard the swift, indrawn breath she gave.
Five minutes.
“James,” she said again, but it was softer this time. Her fingers kneaded his shoulders, no longer clutching desperately at him. She was weakening.
He sought out her ear, rasped his jaw along it and felt her shudder. “I’ve thought of doing this all evening,” he said. “Ever since I discovered you weren’t wearing a corset.” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that made her shiver in reaction. “No; that’s a lie—since the very moment you climbed into the carriage and I saw that row of buttons up your back. All I could think of was how long it would take to undo them.”
“You shouldn’t say such things.” Her voice was husky, strained. “It’s wicked. It must be.”
He nipped her earlobe, felt her hands clench and her hips jerk. “Then be wicked with me. Just for these last few minutes. And then, if you like, you may claim a headache and the Ravenhursts will no doubt see you safely home.” He moved his knee against her in a slow roll that made her back arch, made her make a low, sultry sound of desire deep in her throat. “Or stay—stay and be just a bit more wicked.”
“More wicked?” She sounded rocked to her core, as if she couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. “How much more wicked is there?”
Two minutes.
“More than I could possibly explain to you now. More than could be accomplished in a theatre box. For tonight, only a bit more.