Perhaps if he rolled her just a little bit to the right…
"Oh, it gets better!" It certainly did. The shift in angle worked as smoothly as anything devised by Newton, exposing a whole row of buttons ripe for the plucking. Or, rather, the unplucking. Geoff eased the first one free. "He called it 'corking good verse.'"
"Corking?" Geoff paused in his unbuttoning and cast Letty an incredulous look. "Is that even a word?"
Letty shrugged, which had the beneficial effect of shaking an extra button free of its casing. "I don't know; you're the poet."
"Someone ought to cork Percy Ponsonby," declared Geoff absently, thinking mostly of buttons.
Letty's face went stiff, and she lurched upright so abruptly that her dress slid drunkenly off one shoulder. As Letty grabbed for it, the impact of Geoff's mistake thudded home. Since Percy was the one who had found them…Damn. Cursing himself for his carelessness, Geoff hastened to make amends.
"Not that," he said softly, cupping Letty's face in both hands. "I didn't mean that."
For a moment, Letty's lips parted as though to speak. Whatever she might have said, she thought better of it. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Geoff's with a determination that might have meant that she believed him, or might equally well have meant that she didn't. Geoff was vaguely aware that he ought to inquire, but what with one thing and another, his body deemed external considerations irrelevant.
Geoff's hands slid to where her dress gaped invitingly, narrowing to a point at the base of her spine. His hands roamed over the exposed area, the fine fabric of her chemise bunching beneath his fingers. "Is there a hem to this?" he asked huskily, his lips barely leaving hers.
"It would be a little odd if it hadn't," began Letty, but her philosophical meditations on the finite nature of fabric ended in an indrawn breath. Geoff had found the edge of the chemise all by himself, and was involved in exploring under it.
The sensation of her husband's ungloved hands stroking the length of her spine made their previous kisses seem practically proper in comparison. There was something more than a little decadent about sitting side by side, in the glare of a dozen candles, fully clothed except for the secret caress of his hands against her bare back, hidden from view by the specious propriety of her gown. In a mirror of the movement of his hands on her back, Geoff's tongue slid across her lips. Driven by pure instinct, Letty leaned into the kiss, matching his tongue with hers. There was nothing delicate or courtly about the kiss; it was an open-mouthed expression of pure passion, the sort that might have persuaded Lancelot to forsake his allegiance to Arthur, or Helen to run off with Paris.
"For that," commented Geoff hoarsely, when they could speak again, "I'll even forgive your mocking my verse."
"For that," replied Letty cheekily, "I'll even forgive you writing it."
Their eyes locked, glittering with heightened awareness. Geoff could feel a cockeyed grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, echoed by an answering expression on Letty's face, the same sort of expression he had seen on agents before they set out on a particularly exciting mission, flush with high spirits and ready to dare the devil himself. But no agent he had ever known had looked anything like Letty. With her color heightened, and her gown slipping from one shoulder, she looked like a Renaissance painter's depiction of Susanna bathing, all pink curves and unconscious sensuality.
Geoff drew in his breath at the sight.
When he spoke, it was with a certain amount of difficulty. "This is your last chance. If you want me to sleep on the divan, tell me now."
She couldn't choose the divan. It might be fitting punishment for his sins, but he wasn't sure he could survive it.
Letty ran her tongue over her lips in a gesture that was nearly Geoff's undoing.
"I couldn't make you sleep on the divan," she said breathlessly, her eyes never leaving Geoff's. "It's short. You're tall."
Geoff favored her with a decidedly rakish smile. "How fortunate."
"For the divan?"
"For me."
His hands slid over her shoulders, drawing the sleeves of her gown with them. He paused by the same freckle that had taunted him on their wedding day, perched on one dimpled collarbone. Bending over, Geoff pressed his lips to the spot, following it down to another tiny brown dot, conveniently placed just above the swell of Letty's breast, a whisper away from the deep pink barely veiled by her chemise.
"I told you I liked your freckles."
Letty's hands clutched at Geoff's hair as he eased the fabric aside for better access.
"I don't think that's a freckle," gasped Letty.
"Does it matter?" inquired Geoff, doing his best to make sure it didn't.
His tongue circled the rosy skin of her breast, closing in narrowing spirals around the tender nub.
"No."
Letty had lost all interest in semantic distinctions. She didn't care what they called it as long as he didn't stop whatever it was that he was doing.
"I thought not."
Letty shivered as his breath coasted over her dampened skin.
His lips closed and tugged, sending little quivers jolting through her. The fabric of her chemise bunched beneath her breast, pushing it into prominence and magnifying the sensation. Letty squirmed restlessly, arching away from the pressure—or toward it, she wasn't quite sure which.
"Mmph," she said, which Geoff correctly interpreted as, "Do go on."
"Let's get you out of these clothes," murmured Geoff, reaching for the edge of her chemise.
Letty was only too happy to oblige, lifting her arms obediently in the air as he drew the garment off over them. In the strange pink room, with Aphrodite beaming down from above—and various nymphs far less clad than Letty—it was hard to feel self-conscious. At least, until her husband's gaze replaced the chemise, with an unmistakable appreciation that sent delirious warmth creeping across Letty's skin. Resisting the urge to fold her arms across her chest, she scooted forward instead, closing the gap between them.
"What about you?" she asked hastily, tugging at his cravat. "You're wearing far more than me."
"An excellent point." Shrugging out of his coat, Geoff let his nimble fingers make short work of a cravat that had taken half an hour to tie. The white fabric joined Letty's chemise on the carpet, rapidly followed by his waistcoat.
As Geoff tore his loose shirt off over his head, Letty wriggled her loosened dress down over her hips, kicking it off the edge of the bed. She stilled, reverting to awkwardness as she realized that Geoff's shirt was off his head and he was staring rather fixedly. At her.
Suddenly self-conscious, Letty scooted back along the pink satin coverlet, trying to put as much space between them as possible. Geoff's eyes followed.
He shook his head. "You look…"
With rapidly sinking spirits, Letty wished she had thought to blow out the candles. She knew how she looked. She was too short, too plump, too round…just too. Too everything. Nothing like Mary's perfect willowy elegance. The sight of her unclothed was probably enough to kill any tender feelings Geoff might have had for her—at least until she was discreetly swathed in a gown again.
Biting her lip, Letty grabbed for the edge of the sheet. "You don't need to say it."
"…unbelievable." He didn't sound disgusted, just dazed. His hand reached out to still Letty's before she could drag the covers across her legs. "And incredibly alluring."
"Alluring?" Letty was quite sure she must have misheard.
His hands moved up her arms, stretching them up over her head. "Sensual. Seductive. Desirable."
It was so ridiculous that Letty produced a shaky laugh. "I think you have the wrong person. Or the wrong words. Or both."
"No." Geoff gazed down at her, his gray eyes as steady as Gibraltar. "They're both just right."