That was a familiar thing too. He had said it before—just a kiss, just a touch, he always said—like a promise between them that they could never keep. Each time it had gone a bit further, a little more dangerous, until that moment in her father's carriage that halted everything for good.

Callie held her breath as he worked the button. One layer at a time, her dress loosened. His fingers slid down into the open seam. Her father wasn't here now. There was no one to interfere, nothing to hold back the cascade of sensation as the gauze slipped and the dress fell from her shoulder. She tilted her head aside as he kissed the curve of her throat and pulled her hips up against him.

With a light direction, he urged her toward a chaise longue and drew her down with him. He didn't look at her; he kissed her shoulder while he unfastened the dress and pulled at all the pins that the modiste had so lovingly inserted to set her hat.

The headpiece swept to the f loor, along with the gauzy veil and shawl. He pressed her back down on the sofa, both of them breathing quickly. Callie held on to his lapels. As she laid her head back, she moved her hands inside his coat, feeling the solid shape of his chest under a satin waistcoat.

He made a fervent sound and sat back a little, yanking his waistcoat open and his shirt free, so that she could spread her palms against his bare skin. He closed his eyes as she stroked her hands up and down. His chest rose and fell under her touch. He swore roughly under his breath. When she ran her fingers along the edge of his trousers, slipping them between the fabric and his skin, he opened his eyes, putting his hand over hers, stilling her.

Callie gave him a naughty look. She knew—she remembered what he liked, what he had taught her, though she had hidden it away in the darkest corners of her recollections until now. It was something she had only allowed herself to remember in the deepest black of night, alone in her bed, dreaming.

He growled and leaned over her, brushing her chemise down off her shoulder, pulling it down until she felt her breasts exposed, pressed upward as they were by the corset. He bent his head, kissing and licking at the edge of the stiff garment until he teased her nipple free.

Callie gasped and clutched at him as the sensation shot through her. His tongue on her was hot and sweet, tugging gently, then harder as she arched up to him. She heard small sounds of delight working in her own throat, impossible to smother.