He moved out of her way, shifting to stand behind her. “If I tell you no, you’ll watch out of spite. So go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He knocked twice on the glass, presumably to let the occupants know they had an audience.

Out of habit, Florence ducked. “Can they see us?”

“No, it’s too dark in here.”

“Oh.” Feeling foolish, she straightened. The window was rectangle shaped, roughly the size of a piece of paper. Just big enough for Clay and her to watch at the same time. She moved closer to see what was happening.

A man and a woman stood in front of the fire, kissing, the man in trousers and shirtsleeves. The woman was dressed in a corset, chemise, drawers, stockings and boots, with her brown hair piled on her head. Their mouths moved feverishly, lips parted slightly to reveal how their tongues rubbed against each other. The man moved his hands to the woman’s breasts, cupping them, his fingers digging into the plump flesh rising above her corset. Warmth slid through Florence, her skin prickling at the scene in front of her.

The man loosened the laces of the woman’s corset and she helped him, the two of them continuing to kiss as they worked together to get the piece off. When she was down to her chemise, the man began kissing her throat, his hands cupping her heavy breasts. Her hand went to his groin, where she stroked him through his trousers. Florence’s nipples tightened behind her corset, her breasts growing heavy with want. Her own amorous sessions hadn’t been this . . . carnal. They had been civilized. Almost polite.

Boring.

This was something else altogether, wild and raw. Desperate. Her body reacted with blood pulsing in her veins and gathering between her legs. Clay’s scent, the outdoors and faint cigar, filled the small space, making her quite aware that she wasn’t alone. He stood behind her, not speaking, a potent hulk of masculinity she couldn’t ignore. Yet, she didn’t take her eyes off the couple in the next room.

Now the man tore off the woman’s chemise and immediately began sucking the tip of one breast, and she threw her head back, eyes closed in ecstasy. Florence could hear her own breathing, rapid exhalations that gave away her arousal, but she didn’t care. She could neither look away nor could she leave. Her feet were rooted to the floor, her body both hot and cold as desire dug its claws into her flesh. She remembered the sweet tug, the pressure of what it felt like to be suckled by strong lips.

Heaven. Pure heaven.