Yorkshire
1849 "You said this was an adventure," she murmured, her eyes growing heavy. "I don't think I've ever had such an--an interesting time. I don't want it to end, either." The coverlet slipped, and she saw his gaze go to her bare, rosy skin and the soft curve of her shoulder. He was looking at her, and she liked it. "This doesn't seem real," she said dreamily. "I feel like I can do whatever I wish." "What is it you wish to do?" The firelight was behind him. Francesca was feeling very peculiar. There was something about his eyes and his voice, she felt like a silly rabbit held by the eye of a snake, except this was a far more pleasurable experience. Pleasure, that was the word. Sebastian Thorne was a man who could give her unlimited pleasure, and he fascinated her and frightened her at the same time. Or perhaps she was more frightened of herself. What was it like to kiss a man like this? In her life she had kissed, of course she had, but usually bumbling boys who slobbered on her cheek before she pushed them away. She'd never let herself imagine how it must feel to kiss a real man, an attractive man, and one she was attracted to. She had been too afraid she might not be able to stop. But now here he was, the man of her dreams, and suddenly desire overweighed fear. Impulsively she threw her arms about his neck and placed her lips on his. Surprise gave way to passion. He grasped her roughly in his arms, and he was strong. Lovely. She felt caught up in something she mightn't be able to stop and she was afraid, but only for a moment, before his mouth proceeded to plunder hers. An explosion of sensation. Her sense of touch and taste and smell were all focused on him. There was not escaping this, and she didn't want to.