He kept going. After toeing off his leather shoes, he flicked open his trousers and pushed the cloth over his hips. He stepped out of the legs and kicked the garment aside along with his socks. That left him in a thin cotton undergarment, which hid absolutely nothing. Quite the opposite, actually. The fabric cupped his cock and balls indecently.

She looked him up and down. He didn’t wait for a reaction, however. In another few seconds he had the undergarment off and stood naked in front of her. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breasts pushed high into the neckline of her emerald-colored evening dress as she took in the sight of his bare body.

This is who I am, he wanted to tell her. Scarred, big and imperfect. He was not one of those pampered swells with soft hands and an aversion to work. Clay was rough and unforgiving. He’d done little to be proud of in this life thus far. She’d be wise to leave and never come back.

“Change your mind yet?” He held perfectly still and awaited her answer. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable since he got pinched at the age of sixteen for running an illegal dice game in the Bowery.

“Absolutely not.” She lifted her hands to her hair and pulled on the combs securing her chignon. Silky blond tresses fell around her shoulders, a halo around her stunning face. “You’re glorious, Clay.”

The compliment was a lance through his chest, destroying the thin thread he’d had on his self-control. He couldn’t wait a second longer to touch and taste her. He gripped her face and captured her mouth in a deep, powerful kiss. Her palms slid over his shoulders and down his chest, her touch light but unafraid, and so arousing he worried for his stamina. Their tongues battled and his cock throbbed between their bodies. Idiot. Why didn’t I undress her first?

He reached for the ties of her skirt. She broke off from the kiss and moved his hand away. “It’ll go faster if I do it.”

Nodding, he kissed her temple, then her cheek. He moved his lips over the curve of her jaw until he reached the smooth skin of her throat. She was soft and delicate, so different than her bold and daring personality. Her fingers brushed his stomach as she unfastened her bodice. When the fabric parted, he drove his hand inside to cup her breast, the mounds tantalizingly displayed by the corset. Florence twisted to shove the heavy material off her arms so he bent his head and kissed the tops of her breasts. He nibbled and sucked, drawing her flesh into his mouth as she worked on her skirts.

“You’re not making this easy,” she panted.