Yes. Yes, she had. Audrey could do this. She could go through with this. Perhaps they wouldn’t ever do such a thing again. She had to know if she would enjoy it, if she allowed herself. Pinching her eyes closed, she sat up and set to work on unfastening the buttons along the back of her gown.

Before half the tiny pearl buttons were undone, Lodge had his coat, waistcoat, and shirt all off, draped over an armchair by the window. Dappled, golden sunlight poured in, washing him in a glow that highlighted all of the muscles on his chest and back. Facing the window, he undid the flap of his breeches and Audrey couldn’t look away if she tried.

As he lowered his pants and smallclothes to the ground in a single motion, his taut backside kept her entranced. How was it possible to have etched muscles there? Was it from all of his horse riding? Her breath caught as she imagined tracing the contours of his bottom with her fingertips. She’d never allowed herself to think about touching him before, not anywhere but his strong arms and upper chest. They seemed safe places to touch. Proper. Touching his buttocks could hardly qualify as proper.

Lodge turned, then, and caught her staring. Drat, she hated herself for looking as she had been. She hated herself even more now, because she was staring at the apex of his thighs and the member standing at attention nestled there.

His hand came over it, gripping it and sliding along its length a time or two. His staff seemed to grow before her eyes. Good gracious. “Never, in all this time, have you looked at what’s been inside you.”

Spontaneously, she wet her lips with her tongue as she watched his movements.

He moved closer to her, standing beside the bed, his hand still moving slowly over his engorged blade in the same manner as he moved within her. With his other hand, he drew down the top of her gown, freeing her breasts to his inspection in the waning afternoon sun.