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adolescent.
    And the way she’d grasped his lapels. So aggressive, so brusque. Women, even of his own class, were usually intimidated by his wealth, his stature in Society. Since he’d reached his majority, no woman had ever dared just lay her hands on him like that. God, this girl was so impetuous, so audacious.
    Soon, he would have her beneath himself, pleading, begging…
    A jolt of lust pulsed through his erection, making it swell painfully against his pantaloons.
    “Oh, Christ.” The word was a whispered, harsh groan as he tightened his hand on the door. She was just a slip of a girl. Economically disadvantaged. Likely uneducated. Definitely unsophisticated. She also the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Anywhere in the world. And she was waiting on the other side.
    Waiting for him alone.
    A typhoon rush of elation swept through him. It left him dizzy in its wake.
    Dizzy? Damn it all, he needed to get control over himself. He forced himself to take several additional slow, deep breaths.
    No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn’t going to pounce on the woman and carry her to bed. Instead, over champagne they would discuss their relationship. Define it. So they knew where they stood. Because two weeks of indefinite waiting was intolerable. He was prepared to make her terms no sane woman could refuse. And she seemed sane.
    Once defined, their liaison would start as he intended to continue with her, no different than with any of his mistresses. There would be no room left for emotionalism. No distasteful power struggles or disappointments.
    He entered and locked the door. Soft footfalls sounded on the polished footboards. He turned to see her running towards him. She was completely naked.
    The vixen.
    She flung herself up at him. On instinct, he caught her, reeling backwards a little. While he struggled to stay on balance, her hands latched onto his shoulders, her legs wrapped about his waist and gripped tight. He braced her bare, satiny bottom.
    His heart hammered his chest, for as welcomes went, it was staggering. Her mouth found his, her tongue flirting along his lips.
    “Damn.” He half groaned against her lips. Kissing her deeply, with one eye open, he bore her to the bed. Bright light flashed through the gossamer white curtains, illuminating her porcelain skin against the dark-blue velvet bedspread. She rolled on her back, all pink-tipped breasts, flat youthful belly, and luscious long legs.
    Thunder rumbled as he stretched over her. Fitting his hand to the curve of her waist, he bent. Her pulse beat a tattoo against his lips, her skin like smooth cream on his tongue, her scent all tangy and sweet like the exotic fruits he had enjoyed so well in the Orient. Slowly he kissed his way from her neck down to the soft swell of her breasts. Capturing a hardened nipple between his lips, he ran the tip of his tongue over it gently.
    She shivered and moaned, arching her back, pressing up and clutching his head. Her soft, plump mons pressed his erection. Every male instinct screamed for him to wrench his pantaloons open and thrust into her immediately.
    Lightning flashed, followed by an immediate loud boom. He raised his head, focusing glassily. This was going too quickly. Her artless honesty was a refreshing departure from Marie’s lace and silk calculation and Kate’s cool sophistication, he shouldn’t let his instincts rule.
    He rolled away and got up to peel off his coat. Then he took out his cotton banyan for her to wear. So they could talk.
    When he turned back to the bed, she lay with one hand caressing a breast, one hand between her legs, a finger stroking her nub. He sucked in his breath, his balls tightening.
    She moaned and his eyes flicked to her face. Her body writhed, the speed of her stroking, circling finger increased and her every hitching breath reverberated in his cock. His heart pounded so hard, it seemed to be trying to squeeze the very life out of itself.
    Good God. A long-held