DARCY GRITTED HIS TEETH, struck that her fleeting touch had nearly unmanned him. Seeing her splayed open before him, the scent of her in the air—it was all he could do the hold onto his composure. But when her nimble fingers played at the buttons of his falls, he had to stop her.
With a gentle hand on her wrist, he said, “Patience, my love. We’ll be home soon enough.”
“Please,” she said, her voice low and rough, “I want to give you pleasure, too.”
He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. That did nothing to quell the pulsing ache. No point in arguing—he wanted the same thing she did. Any gestures towards propriety were wasted now.
He helped her open his falls and pull the hem of his shirt from his breeches. He held his breath as her eyes took him in.
Then she smiled and glided a sing
