“Take good care of her,” Jack warned before bowing to Florence. “Enjoy your evening, miss.”

Clay took her hand and crossed the floor. The inner corridors of the house were empty, the staff either working in the casino or the kitchens. He and Florence moved quickly, up the stairs and along the halls, until they reached his private sanctum. Withdrawing a key, he unlocked the door to his apartments and ushered her inside.

The fire had been lit, the soft glow leaving enough light for him to see the way to the bedroom. He bent and picked her up, and her arms wound around his neck. “Clay,” she sighed against his temple. “Hurry.”

Seconds later, he placed her on his bed, coming down atop her. He couldn’t be bothered to undress or remove his shoes. He needed to kiss her, right now.

She met his mouth eagerly, her lips parting to wind her tongue with his. He’d never tire of this, of her slick heat and taste, like mint and oranges. He devoured her, the kiss hard and deep. Rough and raw.

Kissing had previously felt like a tame prelude to other activities, a stepping-stone on the way toward getting to a woman’s pussy. Florence was different. Kissing her felt necessary, a connection that filled something inside him. He loved the sounds she made, the greedy pulls of her mouth, the bold swipes of her tongue. Her breath against his skin. The way they fit together.

She was absolute perfection.

Her hands skimmed his shoulders, his chest, anywhere she could reach, each gentle sweep like fire on his skin. He was burning for her, his cock aching and hard against the cradle of her thighs, separated from her sex by layers and layers of cloth. Christ, he could weep for all the fabric that must be dealt with before he could fuck her properly. He still wore his coat, for God’s sake.

Frustrated, he ripped his mouth from hers. “I might die if I don’t get inside you soon.” She nipped his jaw with her teeth and slid her hand between them. Then she gave his shaft a squeeze. A shudder went through him as his lids fell closed. “Have mercy, Florence.”

She pushed on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. “Relax. Perhaps I can help you.”

With her assistance, he removed his coat. When he tried to get atop her again, she held him down. “Stay there. Or don’t you want my help?”

A list of ways she could help at the moment rolled through his mind, none of them suitable for a lady’s ear. His conscience wouldn’t permit him to corrupt her further. “With my clothes?”

“No, with what’s under your clothes.” She moved down the bed and reached for his trouser fastenings.