“Yes. Well, I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t feel this way with anyone else.”

Reese’s jaw clenched at the thought of Sophie with anyone but him. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, chiding himself more than her. “Just feel.”

He let the peony cruise over the swells of her breasts, freezing when her shoulders trembled. “Too much?” he asked.

“No.” Her eyes fluttered open and she looked directly at him. “Are you familiar with The Debutante’s Revenge?”

He shook his head. “Whatever it is, it sounds formidable.”

“It is,” she said proudly. “It’s a newspaper advice column devoted to matters of the heart and subjects that are not discussed in genteel drawing rooms.”

“And what advice would The Debutante’s Revenge give right now?” he asked, brushing the flower across the delicate lines of her collarbone.

“Make your desires known,” she said, as if she were quoting from the column. “Ask for what you want.”

“What do you want, Sophie?”

“I want … I want you to move the flower a bit lower.” She sat up and slipped the straps of her chemise off her shoulders, then peeled the damp fabric away from her breasts, down to her waist.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—graceful, kind, and courageous. He’d fought beside brave men, and Sophie was just as brave, in her own way. She knew something of sacrifice and honor; she’d lived it.

And now she sat a few scant inches away, baring herself to him. Her luminous, impossibly smooth skin begged to be touched. Her petite, perfectly rounded breasts made his mouth go dry.

“I would do anything to please you,” he said earnestly. “Anything.”

She shivered slightly and smiled. “I know,” she said. “And I trust you.”

“Good.” He took a fresh peony from the bouquet as well as the silk ribbon that had bound it. He tied the ribbon in a knot just below the blossom and left the long ends free. Then, he used the flower and silk tie to do everything he wished he could do with his hands and mouth.

He caressed the curve of her neck and traced a slow, languorous path down her arm and across her flat belly. He teased the undersides of her breasts until a moan escaped her lips, then circled the tight, pale pink buds until she strained toward him.

“Better?” he whispered.

“Better,” she confirmed, gazing at him beneath heavy-lidded eyes. “And worse.”

“I know,” he said, sympathizing. He was nearly mad with raw, hot need … but this moment was purely for Sophie.