Free Leslie Lafoy by The Rogues Bride

firm Why, yes, I do. “I hate it, actually. But the requirements of propriety and fashion dictate—” The rest of the words drifted away as he reached out and very slowly, very deliberately undid the uppermost button.
    “When I paint your portrait,” he said softly, holding her gaze as he boldly undid two more, “we’ll unbutton them all.”
    When he painted … Her heart skittered as a heady mix of anticipation and dread surged through her body. “Tristan,” she whispered, looking up at him.
    “What?”
    She was trying to remember what it was she’d been about to say when he leaned down and planted a slow kiss in the hollow at the base of her throat.
    Her breath caught, her senses reeling, she more gasped than said, “Em … could…”
    He made a humming sound that vibrated through every fiber of her being, murmured softly, “Yes, at any moment,” and then leisurely trailed kisses up the length of her throat.
    Her eyes closed, Simone savored the wicked sensations coursing through her. “Unfortunately,” she whispered just before his lips feathered over hers.
    He drew back and smiled down at her, then let his gaze wander down the length of her, the look in his eyes bright and appreciative. “ Most unfortunately,” he said softly as he drew a fingertip over the damask-covered swell of her breast to tease the hardened peak pushing up from beneath.
    A wondrous, pulsing heat shot to her core. Swallowing down a moan of pleasure, she eased away from his touch and breathlessly said, “This is the point where I should protest the boldness of your advance, isn’t it?”
    His smile went wide and he rose to his feet saying, “I think it comes a little late to be of much effect, but if it makes you feel better to offer one, by all means, please feel free.”
    As he walked over to a chair near the easel, she moistened her lower lip and drew a deep, steadying breath. “Doing and saying things only for the sake of appearances has always struck me as being the sign of a shallow person,” she began as he settled himself on the arm. “What would you say to dispensing with the notion and agreeing to be honest with each other?”
    He shrugged and grinned. “You go first.”
    “I enjoy your advances. Far more than is seemly and ladylike. Or safe.” His smile fading by slow degrees, she added brightly, “Your turn.”
    “I want to make love to you.”
    Well, that was far more direct than she’d expected. “I’m flattered. And intrigued.”
    “Have you ever lain with a man?”
    “No,” she answered, wondering if perhaps honesty wasn’t the best idea after all. But since she’d begun, she had no choice but to go on. “And I’ve never wrapped my legs around one, either. I’ve never wanted to.”
    “Until now?”
    She gave him a shrug. “I’m mulling the notion. It’s a decided first for me.”
    “I’m honored.”
    A quick movement behind him caught her attention. “Did you find the pencils, Emmy?”
    “I found some,” her friend announced as she sailed into the room, her cheeks flushed, “but I don’t know if they’re the kind Tristan wants.”
    He rose from the chair and stepped to Emmy’s side at the easel. “If you’re planning to do a charcoal portrait, they’re perfect,” he said, examining what she’d brought. “If you plan to paint in oils, though, they’ll smudge your colors.”
    “Oh, I want to do oils. I know you prefer the shades of gray, but I think they wouldn’t do Simone justice. So I need a simple lead pencil, don’t I?”
    “A very hard one that will give you the faintest, lightest gray line and disappear completely under the paint.”
    “I’ll be back shortly,” she declared, gliding out just as swiftly as she’d entered only a moment before.
    Simone chuckled. “How long do you think she thinks ‘shortly’ is?”
    “Not nearly long enough.”
    Why every word out of his mouth felt like a caress … “Are you hiding over there?”
    “I’m not hiding,” he