The Secret Love of a Gentleman

Giddy from the lust and the whiskey in his blood, his hazy gaze held on to the amber in her eyes as his fingers tightened and kneaded her flesh. Her nipple protruded into his palm.

“Why do you not speak?” He wanted her to stop him, because he’d drunk too much to stop himself.

“I do not wish to shatter this.”

His gaze fell to the hollow at the heart of her clavicle, where he could see her pulse flickering. The amber cross that hung below it lifted when she breathed in. Surely she ought to be panicking, but she was not.

Damn it. Damn conscience and morals, and doing right. He let go of her breast and lifted his hand, then touched where her pulse flickered. It rose in tempo.