And dear Avie was still dithering. “The part you’re staring at is in proportion to the rest of me, and you’re stalling.” “Admiring, not staring at.” “Stalling.” He hoisted her over him, and she went unresisting to her fate. “That wasn’t so difficult. Now hush and kiss me, lest I run screaming after all.” She looked like she wanted to argue, so he settled his hands on her shoulders and urged her down within kissing range. She seemed to appreciate his initiative. Her tongue was soon back in his mouth, boldly tangling with his own. “Hadrian, when do we—” He didn’t let her finish the question, but gave her breast a gentle squeeze—no stays!—thus reminding her that her dress had been pushed off her shoulders by some mysterious force of nature. “Let me get my arms—” She pulled free of the sleeves and fell upon his mouth again, which suited Hadrian’s plans delightfully.
