The moment her nimble fingers joined his to undo the buttons along her bodice, Anthony knew without a doubt she was as invested in this moment as he was. It both excited and worried him, the brunette’s first thought being her reputation once again. Before Anthony could properly think through that implication however, Torie was lifting gently off the ground and tossing her bodice aside. The sight of a tightly strapped corset once again jarred him into action. God, how he hated them. They always looked so bloody painful and for what? Fashion? Victoire was beautiful regardless. She didn’t need whalebones or whatever attempting to suffocate her to death for his benefit. Or bloody well anyone else’s for that matter! (Anthony didn’t hesitate to rip the last few hooks loose with a little less care than he might have otherwise employed as the thought of ‘anyone else’s benefit’ swam like a nasty taunt in the back of his mind.)

The urgent kiss that followed settled some of his possessiveness, and Anthony answered it with a dominance all his own. He hated the thought of anyone else even looking in Victoire’s direction, much less one day taking these kinds of liberties with her. As she moved to pull out a hair pin, his hands instinctively moved to undo the front buttons of his own shirt. The dampness was starting to irritate him, clammy and wet as it was. Her small fingers assisted the final effort to tug the thing off and at last, Anthony paused - hands on either side of her head - just long enough to to take in the sight beneath him.

Long red hair curling loose along the dirty floor. A flush that stretched across her cheeks and down her neck, possibly even to the fair skin beyond. Heaving chest, still covered thankfully, but panting in a way that was obvious, with pupils blown wide— Torie was the picture of one of his nightmares come to life, the temptation that would undoubtedly sink them both. This was all spiraling out of control much more quickly than he’d anticipated, but in that moment, Anthony wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it. He wanted… to apologize. For this, maybe, but also for the way he’d treated her then. Was it selfish to want to translate that into one unforgettable morning in which he only went so far as to satisfy the need she had and keep himself at bay?

Yes. Undoubtedly.

It was incredibly uncouth, and would ruin her regardless.

Fingers curled into the fabric of her chemise and Anthony kissed with the desperation of an undecided sinner who had no instruction of which way to go. If his thumb rubbed absently over her nipple through the thin material, it was entirely an accident. One that he repeated again and again.

“Torie…” Her name escaped him in a desperate plea, a question that was trying to formulate. “We shouldn’t do this,” he forced himself to say. A shock, even to Anthony himself. “I can’t— I don’t want to hurt you again.” Because she had to know how much this would hurt. Her reputation couldn’t suffer it, and neither would he ask her to. There was a proper way of doing things!

And with that, the reality hit him like a bucket of ice to the head. Anthony let out a shaky breath and eased his weight onto one elbow, removing his traitorous hand from atop her. Blue hues danced miserably as he looked down into porcelain features, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be angry or upset. He didn’t stray far, granted, still pressed over her as he was, almost hoping she disagreed. But the gentlemanly drive to stop had worked it’s way back up through his senses. He wanted to say so much more, to ask her to court him, to marry him for bloody sake! Right now, even! But that was just guilt and arousal speaking. He owed her more than that.

---

---