Georgie could barely draw a breath. “You do?”

“Oh yes.” He dropped his hand, and she let out a long exhale and tried to find her equilibrium. Every one of her senses was afire, anticipating his next touch.

“A courtly lover would offer a chaste peck on the cheek.” He leaned forward and matched action to words. “But that’s rather insipid, don’t you think? Rather uninspiring.” He took her face between his hands, and his thumbs stroked her chin. “I’d rather kiss you here.” The pad of his thumb dragged over her lips. “I dream about your mouth,” he whispered. “It’s perfect.”

He exerted the slightest pressure to tug her forward, and when his lips met hers, she couldn’t prevent the little moan that escaped her. So sweet. So lush. So right. He angled his mouth and pushed deep, his tongue stroking hers, and she closed her eyes and let herself dissolve. Heat rose, and urgency, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, anchoring herself to him, a port in a storm.

She was hungry for him too. For taste, for sensation.

He caught her lower lip in his teeth—an erotic tug that sent a corresponding tug straight to her belly—then released it and kissed her again, full and commanding.

When he pulled back, his eyes were glittering, and Georgie sucked in a breath.

“Do you want a courtly lover, Mrs. Wylde? Or do you want me?”

“You,” she gasped. “I want you.”

“Turn around.”

She did as he ordered, and he made quick work of the row of tiny buttons down her back. Her dress pooled at her feet, and he caught her shoulders and turned her back around. Georgie watched, mesmerized, as he untied the front lacing of her short stays and drew them off her. She was left in her stockings, shoes, and shift.

He took her hand and led her through into his bedroom, but she barely had time to register a huge four-poster bed and tones of deep burgundy before he took her mouth again. Her head spun, her blood pounded in her ears, and the next thing she knew, the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she was falling backward onto the mattress. Wylde followed her down. She gave a little squeak of surprise, and he pulled away, supporting himself on his hands, his hair tousled and his lips glistening.

The lower half of her legs were still off the bed. He pushed himself upright and stood looking down at her with a hungry expression.

“I want to see all of you, Georgie. Take off your shift.”