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lower lip as if testing the plumpness, and his fingers curled around her chin.
    â€œOh, starling. I’ve had such dreams about your mouth.”
    â€œMore kissing?”
    He smiled then urged her forward till she leaned over him, a breath away. “To begin with,” he said, and then proceeded to show her, his mouth hot and full upon hers.
    The new position proved especially rousing as the kiss grew impossibly deep, all consuming. Not only did Lizzie feel more of that strange throbbing between her legs, she felt almost exposed with her thighs spread so intimately wide across Oliver’s. It elevated her excitement, especially when his fingertips grazed a path down her neck, leaving flames in their wake.
    With each passing moment, Lizzie felt more energized, awakened in a new way. Attuned to him elementally; his taste on her tongue, his musky essence filling her senses.
    When his hand skimmed her collarbone and settled on her breast, her heart skipped a beat and she forgot to breathe. What a strange feeling, the warmth of his hand cupping her flesh and rubbing at the taut peak her nipple had become.
    Shards of pleasure raced to her loins. Lizzie pulled back, wide-eyed, her breath shuddering in, then out of her chest. His hands stilled.
    â€œIt’s all right, starling. I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything that you don’t desire.”
    That was the problem. Lizzie wanted his touch so much that it frightened her. She was awash, adrift in such overwhelming sensation that she wondered if she’d ever be the same again. This was one of those moments where it seemed certain that the choice made would influence the course of her life, and Lizzie was almost paralyzed at the enormity of the decision he had left to her.
    She wanted this moment with him, fleeting as it was bound to be. It was impossible to consider she might have something permanent with such a powerful and highly sought-after man.
    But she could enjoy what time she had.
    â€œMay I?” he said, his voice a husky whisper that stroked her nerves like a bow on the strings of a viola. She nodded.
    The pad of his thumb scraped the sensitive nipple and she trembled, shaking harder with each gentle stroke of that single digit.
    Even moving as slow as a tortoise, the carriage lurched as one wheel rolled up and over an uneven cobble, the motion not enough to unseat her but sufficient to bounce her against Oliver, her breast pushing into his hand and her exposed core bumping against him. Against a very hard part of him.
    Pure pleasure shot through her and she sighed. Oliver sucked in a ragged breath, and his free hand gripped her hip tight, but not so hard as to bruise. When the rear wheel bumped over the same cobble, Lizzie couldn’t contain a groan at the sensation. And then she proceeded to lose all thought.
    She returned for his kiss, but this time Lizzie set a frenzied pace while she ground against Oliver’s pelvis, on that part of him that created such a rush of…lust? It was compulsive, intoxicating.
    Oliver’s hand slipped from hip to derriere, cupping one cheek as he showed her a new movement, a rocking motion that stole her breath. Showed her how to increase the rhythm, to feed the fire that threatened to consume her. And when she eagerly took to it, he moaned and squeezed her buttock in encouragement.
    â€œOh, yes, my little starling. Just like that,” he murmured, his words unraveled into a heated mumble.
    Passion built then plateaued, leaving her whimpering into the starched folds of his cravat. Her hands fisted in the satin of his waistcoat.
    Something wasn’t quite right, wasn’t…finished. The call of her raging blood left her hungering, empty despite the warmth of Oliver’s arms. The friction she created was insufficient, couched by the layers of clothing between them.
    â€œHere. Let me show you,” Oliver said as she began to slow, abandoning the fleeting feeling. He pinched her