He didn’t know why she was different from the others, why with her he was breaking all his own rules. Why he knew once with her would not be enough. Why he was determined to leave her wanting so he would have more than the once. Eventually she would grow weary of him—his siblings might have lucked out by falling for aristocrats who were willing to embrace them, but he knew that most of the nobility tired of playing in the muck after a time. She’d been honest with her purpose in coming here. His performance might cause her to return but her presence in his life was temporary. He understood that and intended to make the most of it.

Breaking off the kiss, he trailed his mouth along her chin, the ivory column of her throat, her collarbone, then a detour up to the sweet curve where her neck eased into her shoulder. There he lingered, suckling and soothing, while her head dropped back, her moan deepened into a groan, and her fingers tightened on his shirt, more fabric gathered within her grasp. Her skin was so silky and smooth, heated alabaster marble beneath his tongue. He could spend the entire night feasting on her inch by delicious inch.

But other inches were in need of his attention.

Pulling back, he took pleasure in her languid gaze. He’d seen the same expression in a thousand eyes—intoxication at its very finest before one toppled over the edge into obliterating drunkenness. But she would be saved from that fate as her lethargy was spurred by sensation not drink.

“Free my buttons,” he ordered on a rasp of desire that nearly unmanned him.

She’d thought he’d never ask, although considering the tight hold she had of his shirt, the manner in which her knuckles were turning white, she was surprised to find the cloth not yet shredded into pieces. His kiss hindered her ability to think, to reason. All she could do was feel—the softness of his lips, the roughness of his tongue, the gentle abrading of his short whiskers against her skin. She might be red and a bit chapped in the morning, but she didn’t care. It all added to the incredible sensations pouring through her.

The way his gaze seemed to darken and smolder as he watched her only added depth—very much like an aria as it reached its crescendo.

She wasn’t surprised to find her fingers shaking as they attacked his buttons. She was trembling all over, but it was in a most pleasant way. His patient, slow mannerisms didn’t transfer to her. Instead she worked quickly, shoving each button through its hole, watching the material part to reveal a thin V of flesh, lightly sprinkled with hair that would tickle her fingers if she found the courage to skim them over it.