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through the blackluster of his long hair, ruffled in loose waves on his neck, she brushed her mouth along his cheek. “Please,” she whispered near his ear, visions of her hope to save her family dashed by his reluctance, “stay with me.” It was a simple plea, simply put. It was perhaps her last chance. Her lips traced the perfect curve of his ears, and his hands tightened their grip in response. “Say it’s all right. Say I can stay.…” She was murmuring rapidly in a flurry of words.
    How should he answer the half-shy, quicksilver words? Why was she insisting? Why did the flattery of a woman wanting him matter?
    Then she shifted a little so her leg slid between his, a sensual, instinctive movement, and the smooth velvet of his masculinity rose against her thigh. It was warm, it was hot, and like a child might explore a new sensation, she moved her leg lazily up its length.
    Trey’s mouth went dry, and he couldn’t convince himself that refusal was important any longer. He groaned, thinking, there are some things in life without answers. His hand was trembling when he drew her mouth back to his.
    A moment later, when Flo knocked and called out his name, Empress shouted, “Go away!” And when Flo repeated his name, Trey’s voice carried clearly through the closed door. “I’ll be down later.”
    He was rigid but tense and undecided, and Empress counted on the little she knew about masculine desire to accomplish what her logical explanation hadn’t. Being French, she was well aware that
amour
could be heated and fraught with urgent emotion, but she was unsure exactly about the degree of urgency relative to desire.
    But she knew what had happened moments before when she’d tasted his mouth and recalled how he’d responded to her yielding softness, so she practiced her limited expertise with a determined persistence. She must be sure she had the money. And if it would assure her family their future, her virginity was paltry stuff in the bargain.
    “Now let’s begin again,” she whispered.
    “Let’s not,” he said, groaning.
    “Tell me if I’m doing things wrong.”
    “Empress, darling,” he murmured on an indrawn breath ofmonumental restraint as her bottom moved gently beneath his hands, “you’re doing everything exactly right.”
    “You have to teach me.”
    God in heaven! Carefully Trey said, “I shouldn’t.”
    “Better you,” she said very softly, “than Jake Pol—”
    “—train,” he finished with a sigh. “You’re serious, then.”
    She nodded, and tumbles of sun-streaked hair slid delicately across his chest. His hands glided up the warm satin of her back, and Jake Poltrain’s name helped make the decision. “You can stop me anytime. Up to a point,” he said. He didn’t know how much she knew about men.
    “I don’t want you to stop.” Invitation, lush and sweetly scented.
    He took a deep breath. “In that case, kitten, I’d better get undressed. The teaching,” he murmured, “will require a little time.”
    “Let me do it.” She smiled at him, gratefulness in her eyes.
    His dark brows lifted inquiringly. Had he misunderstood something?
    “Undress you,” she replied to his searching glance.
    He hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether the experience appealed to him. After all, she was a rank tyro, and it could prove awkward.
    “I won’t hurt you,” she promised impudently, a mischievous grin on her face.
    He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, hell,” he said a moment later, his smile still wide, “everything else is going to be new tonight … why not.”
    But she wasn’t awkward, and she wasn’t timid, and from the first moment her hands touched his belt buckle, he felt a pleasure stronger than he’d ever experienced. He lifted a little to help her pull the belt free and then waited, a curious anticipation tantalizing his nerves. Why did her touch leave him tautly expectant … tense with wanting her? Was it the novelty of her virginity? Was he