That made it hard to forget who she was: a child of the streets with no knowledge of who her parents even were. She was worse than an orphan.
But she would forget. At least for now. She’d spent her life doing just that.
Removing his hat and gloves, Harry set them on a dresser. Then he removed his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. Seeing him in just his shirtsleeves made him seem even larger—his shoulders more broad, his presence more imposing. Not in an intimidating way, but an alluring one.
Selina stood near the end of the bed where there was a cushioned bench. Harry came and sat. “This is where I put my boots on every morning. And take them off every night.” He removed one, then the other, revealing his stocking-clad feet. “I don’t know that I’ve ever removed them in the middle of the afternoon.” He pulled off the stockings next and looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye.
She sat beside him and leaned over to unlace her boots. He quickly knelt before her. “Allow me.”
Selina sat up and let him take over removing her boots. He did so adroitly, his fingers moving while he kept his eyes locked with hers. The simple task was anything but. She’d rarely had anyone help her dress, even now that she had a maid. This was different, however. Because he was a man. Because he was looking at her with naked desire. Because her entire body thrummed with an answering need.
“How old are you?” he asked softly.
“Nine and twenty.”
“I’m just two years older,” he said, removing the first boot and moving on to the next.
“But far more experienced, I’d wager.” She suddenly felt nervous.
“I possess no rakish tendencies.” He chuckled. “I leave that to my brother.” He finished with the second boot and set it next to the first. He clasped each of her ankles, his fingers wrapping around her as his thumbs moved across the top of her feet to the front of her shins. “Shall I remove your stockings?”
“Yes.” She slowly raised her skirt to her knees and then just above so that the garters were exposed.
Harry slid his hands up, his fingers gently grazing her calves. Then he removed one garter and stocking, sweeping them from her leg as she pointed her toes. He repeated the action on the other leg—as did she. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
He moved between her legs and lifted a hand to her face, his palm caressing her cheek. Then he kissed her, bringing her head down so he could plunder her mouth. It was at once tender and wild, unleashing the passion that had smoldered between them this past fortnight. Selina thrust her hands into his dark auburn hair, clutching at him lest he decide he didn’t want this.
Would he? Of course not. Men didn’t change their minds about such things. Yet Selina had schooled herself to always be prepared to be left wanting, alone.
Now she would take what she wanted, what she deserved. What Harry was freely offering.
Harry held her firmly, his lips and tongue wreaking a delicious havoc on her senses. Then he plucked at the buttons of her spencer, and they had to work together to get it off, given how tightly it fit around her arms.
“Women’s clothing looks lovely, but is truly a pain in the arse,” Harry quipped with a half smile.
“The fancier and more expensive it is, the worse it gets.” Selina preferred her simpler gowns when she wasn’t pretending to be a baronet’s widow. She unknotted his cravat. “Men’s clothing doesn’t seem to change much, with the exception of fabric.”
“There are various choices of things to wear on our lower halves. But yes, other than that, it’s relatively boring. Which is fine by me.”
She stripped his cravat away and dropped it to the floor. Her gaze fixed on the flesh now exposed by the open neck of his shirt. Captivated, she bent her head and pressed her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat. He groaned softly, emboldening her. She flicked her tongue over him, tasting him.
He whispered, “Selina,” before capturing her head and kissing her once more.
Everything happened in a haze after that. He lifted her to stand and worked at her clothing, methodically stripping each piece away with a deft ability. Meanwhile, she only managed to unbutton his waistcoat.
When she stood before him in nothing but her chemise, he paused to look at her. Selina couldn’t have imagined the expression in his eyes—a mix of admiration and awe. No man had ever gazed at her like that.
The last vestiges of her fear and anxiety melted away. She swept the chemise down over her body and let it pool at her feet.
Harry swallowed. “You take my breath away.”
She stepped forward, intent on making him as naked as her. That simple act—both of them being bare—already changed everything she thought she knew about sex. In her experience, and she’d seen plenty before she’d left London, it was a hurried, animalistic, and sometimes brutal deed in which no one removed their clothing.
Tugging his shirt from the waistband of his breeches, Selina maintained eye contact, losing herself in the seductive depths of his tawny gaze. He pulled the garment over his head, revealing the muscular expanse of his chest. Selina sucked in a breath at his stark male beauty. Unable to resist touching him, she ran her fingertips over his collarbone, then dragged them down to his nipple.
His breath hissed from his mouth, and he suddenly swept her up and carried her to the side of the bed. Setting her down on the edge, he moved between her legs. She unbuttoned his fall, but stopped short of pushing his breeches down, probably because he started kissing her again. And touching her, feather-soft caresses along her nape, her back, and then along her side and up her sternum. Finally, his hand closed around her breast as he’d done in the hack, but this was so much better.
Selina gasped into his mouth and clutched at his shoulders. He dragged his thumb over her nipple, and the ensuing sensation was akin to the tension she felt when she took an especially great risk—a coiling of emotion and physical desperation that could explode at any moment.
He kissed along her jaw and down her neck. She cast her head back and closed her eyes, focusing entirely on what he was doing to her and the reaction he coaxed from her body. She quivered with a need she’d never known. How was it possible she’d come this far in her life without feeling this bone-deep desire for another person?
Because it made her vulnerable. And vulnerability was unsafe. Until now. Harry made her feel exposed, but in a way that made her feel honored, as if he would take care of her always.
His fingers squeezed around her nipple, sending a shock of need straight to her sex. She’d seen and heard people enjoying this act, and now perhaps she understood.
Harry’s mouth descended, his tongue and lips teasing her flesh as he made his way to her breast. He held her in his hand as his mouth closed over her nipple. Heat flooded her sex, and she whimpered, desperate for him to touch her, to relieve the pressure.
He was, however, quite content to focus on her breasts, his hands and mouth arousing every part of her. She held him, pulling at him to move closer, to end her torment.
One of his hands trailed down over her abdomen, then along her thigh. She tensed even more, anticipation spiraling through her as his fingertip grazed her sex. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and back as she whispered his name. It was an urgent plea to set her free.
“Lie back.” He gently pushed her backward. She went, helpless to resist whatever he wished to do. She wanted everything he would give her.