Sophia couldn’t contain her gasp at the feeling of his lips against her neck or his hands against her breast and thighs. His haste for intimacy completely disarmed her, and robbed her of any thoughts beyond this, more this.

“No marks,” she repeated breathlessly, her way of confirming she heard him at some point, having already dropped her hands from under his shirt. One hand grasped his hair at the nape of his neck so as to encourage his mouth’s current progress, while the other gave an impatient, vague gesture over his shoulder. A few odd candles lit around them, her aim suffered under duress. It was enough to illuminate them a bit better, at least, along with the suggestions of a couch on one side of the room, and a handsome mahogany desk with a few cushy armchairs on the other.

Not that she had much intention to move away from where they were rooted now. The way his body pressed her firmly against the door gave her enough leverage to hike up a few inches, enough to wrap her legs nimbly around his waist. Now her hands found the cravat on his neck, pulling apart its knot impatiently to deposit this unnecessary fabric to the floor. “You’re wearing far too much clothes, who were you trying to impress?” she complained against his skin, and set to work on his topmost buttons while her lips found the soft spot where his jaw met his neck.

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