“With pleasure, Your Grace,” he said, staring at her breasts.
He started to explore higher up her ankles, leaning forward to be able to reach her calves. The muscle there was strong and stiff. He had an overwhelming urge to touch her bare skin. The silken stocking was very pleasant, but he wanted to feel her warm, soft skin beneath his hands. He folded back her skirts as far as the knee and ran his hands all the way up to there. He was waiting for her to stop him, but her head was still thrown back, enjoying the sensation.
He touched the lace frill of her drawers at her knees and pushed his fingers underneath them. He did not know how high up her stockings reached, but he was enjoying drawing little circles against her skin as he explored higher and higher. He realized what had started as an innocent foot rub was developing into something much more risqué. But, halfway between her knee and thigh, he felt the tell-tale ribbons holding up the silks. He loosened the knot in the ribbon, and immediately the stocking on that leg went slack. Very slowly, he slid the loose stocking all the way down her leg until he could pull it from her toes. Then he turned to the other leg. Just the process of sliding his fingers under the lace trim of her drawers made his body hard. He found the ribbon and loosened it, but this time, as he slid the silken sheath downwards, he allowed his fingers to descend just as slowly until it was pulled free.
His efforts had pushed her shirts higher, so much so that almost the entire length of her legs was visible to him now. Leaning forward in the chair, he ran his hands repeatedly up to her knees and back down again, reveling in the shapely feel of her, caressing the top, the sides, and the backs of her legs. As the desire grew inside him, he allowed each pass at her knees to push her drawers higher until he could reach bare skin unhindered all the way up to the middle of her thigh.
If she wasn’t breathing so shallowly, he would believe she had fallen asleep, but she was giving him almost full rein of the lower half of her body.
“Rose.”
She half-groaned in reply.
“Rose, look at me.”
She tilted her head downwards to look into his eyes. Her blue ones were heavy and lidded.
He didn’t need to ask her if she liked it. She was obviously totally immersed in the feeling. He made his touch harder, his fingers pushing deeper into the muscle along her legs. Then, with both hands, he held one leg and massaged his way slowly all the way up to her thigh and back down again.
“No one has ever touched me in such a way,” she marveled.
“There are so many ways I want to touch you,” he said huskily.
It was taking every inch of his self-control not to ravish her. He was sitting close enough to simply reach up and pull down those flimsy drawers. In less than a second, he could have the whole lower half of her totally naked before him. He could slide his hands under her bottom and pull her forward to straddle him, to sit his hardness, which was straining to escape his breeches. Then he could dispense of her gown too and her petticoats. He wanted all of her naked in his arms, sitting on him as he thrust himself into the warmest part of her. He could see that image in his mind, and it made his manhood pulsate.
“What is it?” Rose was watching him, her brow furrowed.
Maybe he should tell her, he thought. Maybe he should tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her.What if she says yes. Would he press himself on her? But even as he wondered it, he knew he wouldn’t. He had agreed to be her friend. He was already threatening every boundary of that agreement.
He shook his head and moved his hands back to below her knees. He dallied there for some minutes more as he allowed his body to calm, still enjoying the sensation of gliding his fingers over her skin. Then he took a deep breath, sat up and back, and picked up his wine, enjoying the view.
“So, how did I do?” he asked nonchalantly.
She pretended she had to consider his question. “I might need you to do it a few more times to be sure.” She grinned at him as she pushed her undergarments and dress down, sparking a rush of disappointment in him.
“Is there anything else I can get you for your birthday, Your Grace?” he grinned in return.
He watched as she pretended to be thinking, but then something changed in her eyes. He was unsure what it was, perhaps the light, or a sudden look of intent, but she turned her perusal directly back to him.
“Anything?” She asked.
He arched an eyebrow. “Yes!”
“Because it is my birthday,” she affirmed.
He nodded. “Because it is your birthday.”
She leaned forward and reached for his hand. “Come with me.”
* * *
Rose watched the confusion in his eyes, enjoying turning the tables on this man who so often left her floundering. She wondered what he was thinking as he rose to his feet, and she pulled him over towards the bed. Standing next to the bed, it was he who said, “Rose?”
“Take off your shirt,” she ordered.
“Are you certain?” He was looking at her quizzically.
“Very sure,” she said, and then stood back and watched as he began to undo each button. His hair turned a deep red chestnut as the fire glow lit up the side of his face. He did not take his eyes off her. He was watching her every time she looked up from the expanse of skin he was exposing. He pulled his shirt from his waistband and then hung it on the post at the end of the bed.