Page 117 of Frankly, My Dear

“Exactly.”

“I’ve never been very wicked before,” she confessed, her mouth turning down forlornly.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Oh, my!”

“‘Oh, my!’ I plan on making you say that a lot tonight.”

“Oh, m…,” she started to say, but stopped herself, eying him suspiciously.

He pulled his galluses off his shoulders to hang from his waist and removed his half boots with the toe of first one foot, then the other. He wriggled his toes sensuously once they were free of their leathery confines.

Her gaze fixed oddly on his toes.

“What? Why are you staring at my feet?”

She jerked to attention. “I was just remembering…” She dropped her lashes modestly.

“Remembering what, Selene? Don’t stop now.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It was nothing….”

Lord, he loved the way she blushed.

“Just…well, that first morning when I woke up in your hotel room in New Orleans, I saw you sleeping on the bed. And I remember thinking that you had beautiful feet—”

“Beautiful feet?” he choked out incredulously. He was so aroused he felt disoriented, and she talked about feet.

“—and I couldn’t believe that I was actually getting turned on by a man’s feet.”

He brightened. “My feet ‘turn you on’?”

“Among other things,” she added impishly.

“Perhaps I’ll let you touch them later if you are very good,” he said offhandedly, trying hard not to laugh.

“And perhaps I’ll suck on one or two…if you are very good.” Her eyes glittered with challenge.

It was his turn to gulp. Sacrebleu! What an erotic image! Involving feet, of all things! Apparently, perversion can be a learned taste. He chuckled as he started to unbutton his shirt.

Intently she watched his every move. Once she even licked her dry lips. Hell, he might need to take another cold bath in the stream before they even started.

He moved in front of the mirror and crooked his finger at her.

Her eyes widened.

He saw the points of her breasts ruching beneath the thin silk of her gown and could barely restrain his hands from tearing away the offensive fabric. Suddenly his mouth turned parched, and he followed Selene’s suit in licking suddenly dry lips.

It was time to take back control of this loveplay. “Are you dewing with need for me, Selene?” he asked in a thick, unsteady voice.

Her quick intake of breath told him without words that he had guessed correctly.

“Do your nether lips swell and part, yearning for my invasion?”

She moaned and nodded, a willing slave to his graphic questions.

“Does your woman’s center pearl for me?”