His tongue slicked inside her mouth, and she stroked it with her own. His response came in his growl, and his hand moving down her back to pull her hips snug against his own. As snug as he could, given the mass of her skirts, panniers, and petticoats.

He broke the kiss with a snarl. “I need to feel you, damn it. See you.”

They both battled with her clothing, undoing the hooks beneath her stomacher, loosening ties, undoing tapes. Together, they peeled away rustling layers of silk, the gown pooling on the floor. She stepped out of her shed clothing, kicking off her heeled slippers, and stood before him in her underclothes.

Craving his touch once more, she moved toward him, but he gently held her back.

“Let me see you, Anne. Let me see my prize.”

Her face flamed with a combination of embarrassment and desire, yet she kept herself still and let him look his fill. He was all bestial hunger as he stared at her, his gaze roving over her with hot possession. She knew she could show herself like this to him—these past days had shaped a trust between them, and she gave herself to that trust.

The cotton of her chemise was thin as a sigh, her peach-hued nipples and dark golden curls between her legs plainly visible. Light as it was, the gauzy fabric still felt heavy against her skin. She saw in Leo’s ravenous gaze that she was beautiful, and it fed her power.

She stepped closer, and his hands came up, roaming over her body, stroking along her shoulders, down her arms, tracing patterns between her breasts and the curve of her belly. His touch filled her with sharpening crests of need. When he cupped her breasts and teased her nipples into harder points, awareness coalesced into an exquisite ache.

Wanting more, she rose up on her toes and kissed him, open-mouthed. They groaned at the sensation. He took and he gave, and as her hands gripped his shoulders, the trembling she felt was not merely her own, but his. This, too, strengthened her, and she pressed closer, rubbing her thighs and the tips of her breasts against him.

Hotter air touched her as he gathered up and discarded her chemise.

She was utterly exposed. Instinctive modesty made her turn away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no.” He gently turned her to face him. “This is me. This is what we’ve made between us.”

His gaze burned hot, yet beneath shone tenderness and acceptance.

Drawing a breath, she let her arms lower to her sides. Allowing him to see her.

He recognized what this meant, and as he looked his fill, she saw both his sensual hunger and his pleasure in her trust. Yet he did not simply look. He stepped toward her, and then his broad hands were everywhere, caressing her naked skin. Her back. The curve of her buttocks. Her breasts. Her skin became unbearably sensitive, yet the flood of sensation was too good, too wondrous, and she couldn’t find words to make him stop. She didn’t want him to stop.

She moved to untie her garters and roll down her stockings.

“Leave them.” His fingers trailed over the ribbons and silk, then higher, to the bare flesh of her thighs. “Soft here. So damned soft. And here”—his fingers glided higher, and she tensed in anticipation—“softer still.”

Her arms wrapped around him. She held herself in readiness, dizzy with the feel of his still-clothed body against her own naked skin, the tremors of need that wracked them both.

Then his fingers found her. Her most intimate place. She cried out in pleasure, the sudden and yet inevitable beauty of it. He stroked her, spreading wetness, learning her secrets.

“Ah, Leo.” She writhed against him.

“Have you done this, Anne?” His voice was hoarse, demanding. “Have you touched yourself? Made yourself come?”

With anyone else, the questions would have embarrassed her, yet she knew this man, her husband, and to hear him speak thus and answer in kind felt precisely right.

“Yes.” She gasped into his mouth. “Yet it was never like this.”

He groaned. “Spread your legs. Give me more.”

This was to be a night of discovery. She had often wondered how it must feel to stand on the deck of a ship and see an unknown coastline approach, never before encountered. The fear and excitement of new territory. Part of her wanted to stay within the confines of safety, her narrow world. But here was a chance to be the explorer she had longed to be. Summoning her courage, she whispered, “Let me touch you, too.”

His gaze flared, recognizing her bravado. Yet he shook his head. “Your pleasure first.” He walked them back to the bed, and guided her to drape beside him. As she lay on her back, he propped himself up on his side. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, and with the other, he dipped between her legs.

She arced as he caressed her, her legs flung wide, her hands buried in his hair. If she did not hold tight, she was certain she would float up and never stop. His touch was relentless, tender. He circled and rubbed at her pearl. Two of his fingers stroked her cleft, lightly sinking inside, testing only the opening. Everything inside her tightened in preparation.

“Leo, I—”

“Yes.”

It grew within her, a rising sensation that originated between her legs yet permeated every part of her. She craved it; she feared it.

“Give me your trust.” He continued to stroke her, drawing her forth. “As I give you mine.”

She saw the truth of this in his face, tight with need, yet open and unafraid. Him, only him.

The climax demolished her. And built her stronger. It filled her body with a pleasure that seemed too much to bear, yet she took it, took what it gave her, what Leo drew from her body. She could not even scream. Her mouth opened. No noise came out. Only a silent cry of release that was too intense for sound.

“Never,” she murmured when she could speak. “Never like that.”

A look of harsh triumph crossed his face. “Mine to give you. Everything else—gowns, money—those are only things. Anyone can have things. But this. This is more. This is ours.” He slowly sank a finger deep into her tight passage, and she gasped at the new sensation. It took her several breaths before her body eased, permitting him access.

When he added a second finger, stretching her, she winced and sucked in a breath.

He stopped immediately, his fingers still within her, but motionless.

She wanted to retreat, but would not permit herself to hide. “Keep going.” She lifted her hips. “I want everything.”

For a moment, he remained immobile. And then he grew sharper, darker as his gaze burned. His fingers left her, and he rose up to stand beside the bed, tearing at his garments as if they were on fire.

He stared at her as, layer by layer, he undressed. All his exquisite tailoring meant nothing, just an impediment. His coat, his waistcoat. He peeled off his stockings, revealing thickly muscled calves. It took him two attempts to undo the buttons fastening his breeches. When, at last, the buttons slipped free, he shoved his breeches down along with his smallclothes.

Anne could not look away from his erect penis. She had never before seen an aroused man, and the sight was far more compelling than any statue or painting. He was thick and slightly curved, with a gleaming, broad head.

His low chuckle brought her attention back up to his face. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You were a zephyr waiting to become a tempest.”

She was wry. “Another investment pays off.”

Yet he shook his head. “This isn’t business. We waited for a reason. So it could be more than cold commerce.”

“I am assuredly not cold.”

Leo grasped the hem of his shirt, the only article of clothing he still wore. Then hesitated, frowning.

Desire made her audacious. She knew what his body felt like beneath his clothing, and understood that it would rival even the sunrise for beauty. “Don’t be shy. Let me see you, too.”