She liked thinking of him as Matthew rather than Mr. Sommersby. As they journeyed around the room, an intimacy swelled up between them, like an ocean wave leading a tempest toward shore. She was aware of everything about him. He carried the fragrance of bay rum, but beneath it was the very essence of him, and a hint of the scotch he’d had earlier. Before coming to her, he’d not bothered to tidy himself up with waistcoat, neck cloth, or coat. She rather appreciated that he wore only his boots, trousers, and a shirt, a few buttons free of their moorings so she had a clear view of his throat, a glimpse of the edge of his chest.

She was willing to dance in his arms until dawn. But he ceased his humming and slowed their steps until they were still and quiet, the only sound their breathing. Although he didn’t release her, not completely. One hand remained on her waist, while the other slipped away from hers and came to light upon her cheek. He skimmed his thumb over her lips. Everything within her tightened, as though he’d taken that thumb over places that had never before been touched by a man.

“May I kiss you, Miss Trewlove?”

His voice was raspy, like that of a man lost in the desert who’d gone years without water. Her mouth was suddenly dry as well. She barely nodded, yet he noted it and slowly lowered his lips to hers.

A gentleness accompanied his actions, as though he feared breaking her—or perhaps he sensed that he was the first to ever take such liberties and sought to ease her into it. On her waist, his fingers jerked before closing more firmly around her. His other hand left her cheek and his arm circled her, pressing her steadfastly along the length of him until her breasts were flattened against his chest.

To her astonishment, his mouth opened slightly, and his tongue lapped at her lips before urging them to part. Then his tongue was stroking hers, over and under, rough and silky. With a deep groan, he took the kiss deeper until she felt its effects in her toes.

Oh God. She wound her arms around his neck before her knees gave out and she embarrassed herself by tumbling to the floor. Numerous times she’d caught her brothers kissing their wives, but she’d never understood what a wondrous compelling thing it was. How it warmed one throughout and caused tingles between one’s thighs. How it made one long to have deft fingers working some sort of magic, and even as she wasn’t quite certain for what precisely her body was reaching, she knew he possessed the means to assuage the yearnings that were building to a fevered pitch within her.