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She got to work on the buttons, making much quicker work of them than he had.
“If you’re impatient, you could work on these,” she said as she settled onto the side of the bed and stuck out a foot clad in a small-heeled boot that was also fastened with a dozen or two buttons.
He hadn’t paid much attention to women’s fashion other than to admire the way a woman looked while wearing it. But he’d never actively hated women’s clothing until that moment. There were so many damn layers, he’d probably age another year before he got them all off.
He had removed one of her boots by the time she’d finished with her bodice. She stood to unfasten her corset, so, for expediency’s sake, Gray shoved his head under her skirts to continue working on the second boot.
Mercy let out a tiny shriek. “What are you doing?”
“Getting your other boot off.”
Before she could respond, he managed to undo enough buttons to remove the second boot about the same time that her corset hit the ground. It was also about that moment that he realized what an amazing opportunity being beneath her skirts afforded him.
He grinned, glad she couldn’t see it, because he had no doubt the expression was filled with a hedonistic delight that might offend her if not downright frighten her. But he was like a starving man being presented with a feast. And he was determined to enjoy every bite.
…
Mercy had just dropped her corset and reached behind her to untie her skirt when the feather-light touch of Gray’s fingers skimmed across her leg. She gasped.
“What are you doing?”
In response, she felt the garter ties holding up her stockings release. Gray wrapped his hands around her leg and dragged them downward, pushing the stocking down as they went. The sensation of his fingers on her skin was enough to set her heart pounding, and she reached for the bed frame to keep herself steady. But when his lips trailed across her inner thigh as he removed the second stocking, her knees buckled and she plopped onto the bed.
Gray didn’t let up. Instead, he pressed closer, forcing her legs wider to accommodate him. She fought between the urge to squeeze them shut or open them completely. One would trap him against the most intimate part of her. But the other would give him full, unfettered access. Either option sent her blood roaring through her in a rush of desire.
He’d managed to remove both stockings, but he didn’t emerge. Instead, his hands now inched their way upward.
“What are you doing?” she asked again.
He kissed her leg. “Exploring. Shh.”
His breath when he shushed her blew gently against her over-sensitized skin and she jumped, her already strained breath catching in her throat.
“I…” Her voice came out in a squeak and she tried again. “I’ve gotten the bodice off. You can come out from underneath there now,” she said, wanting to stop him from doing whatever he had planned while at the same time her body wanted nothing more than to urge him forward.
“I’ll be just a minute,” his muffled voice said from beneath her skirts.
“Gray.” Her voice shook as he found the edge of her bloomers and pulled them off, and she didn’t know if she was pleading with him to stop or to continue, or if she’d uttered his name because it was the only word she could remember just then.
She dragged in a breath, trying to get some much-needed oxygen into her body. “You don’t need to do that part. I think I can manage.”
It probably would have sounded more convincing if her voice hadn’t been so faint.
“But I’ve already begun,” he said, his lips continuing their torturous path along her inner thigh before she could dredge up a coherent thought. “And I really don’t mind.”
His mouth moved even higher up her thigh until he reached her aching center. Surely, he couldn’t mean to—
He pressed a kiss to her core that made her gasp and jerk backward with a startled yelp. He emerged and leaned forward, planting one hand on either side of her hips as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Trust me,” he said, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss that had the room spinning. “Trust me,” he murmured again against her lips. He looked at her, waiting for a response, and when she finally nodded, his face lit up like it had when Martha had handed him the cherry pie.
He ducked back beneath her skirts, his mouth retracing its path along her inner thighs. He took his time to get back to her center, only this time he did not pause, just pressed a kiss to her aching core. She sucked in a tremulous breath, her hands fisting in the quilt beneath her. When his tongue darted out to taste her, she lost her wits altogether.
“Gray! Wait, wait, stop.” She squirmed against him, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to escape or get closer.
He flipped her skirts up. “What? I’m busy.”
She tried to choke back a laugh, but with his hair standing a bit on end and his face red, either from his exertions or the airless confines of the depths of her skirts, she couldn’t know. Though she was fairly sure her own face was just as red.
