It was heavenly. His skin was warm and inviting, his muscles taut. She heard herself say his name ever so softly, “Chase.” The name slid through her teeth, satin tied with a velvet rope. Her ability to refuse him melted with the sound.

She’d been so aggravated with him when she’d first come to his room. But he’d been right—Stephen was responsible for his acts, not anyone else.

Harriet suddenly wondered why Chase had even bothered to help her brother in the first place. “Why did you—”

He kissed her, his mouth covering hers, his tongue sliding between her lips. Hot and delicious, he overwhelmed her senses, made her forget everything but the feel of him.

He pulled her closer and she grasped his shoulders, his bare skin warm beneath her fingertips. His hands roamed over her back, down to her hips, then up her sides.

Harriet moaned softly just as he cupped her breasts through her gown. Sensuous shivers flashed through her.

“Ah, Harriet,” he whispered again, nipping her chin, her throat, her shoulder.

Never had her plain, rather unsatisfactory name seemed so seductive as when he breathed it through his lips like a prayer of thanks. His hot mouth left a trail of delicate fire everywhere it touched.

She tilted her head back and gave him silent permission to explore the hollows, gasping in pleasure as his breath fanned over her skin.

“Mmmm,” he said in a slightly raspy voice. “You smell of cinnamon and apples.”

“I—I helped Cook with the pies. I think they’ll be very good when—”

“You. Are. Delicious.” His lips touched her throat with each word, and a series of tremors raced through her.

His free hand found her knee and he slowly pulled up her skirts. The thin material slid along her leg, inching past her calf, until he finally slipped his hand beneath. His fingers were unnaturally warm as they skimmed her leg, her thigh.

Harriet gasped. He was bold and brazen, taking and teasing. His fingers brushed the top of her pantaloons, pushing them aside until his bare fingers slid down her stomach.

Panic flared. She caught his wrist. “No.”

He looked at her then, his eyes so dark they appeared almost black. “Why not?”

Why not? She could think of a thousand reasons why not and only one why—because she wanted him. Wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to make her mindless with passion. For once in her life, she wanted to lose control and just live.

Her gaze locked on his, she released his hand. “Why not indeed.”

A faint smile curled his lips, his gaze wandering over her face, touching briefly on her eyes, her nose, her upper lip. He bent and placed his lips on hers, holding still, allowing the moment to linger and swell.

Her whole body shivered awake. His hand slid lower then, over her stomach, down between her legs and he touched her in the most intimate of places.

She started then, jerked out of her desire-induced trance. “I ca—”