The night was unusually perfect for December in London. A fingernail moon. Crisp air. Lights from houses around them. The whisper of a frigid breeze through the trees.
Secluded.
Dark.
Mount Street Gardens was his new favorite place. With Rosalind straddling his lap, Nick even forgot how cold the park bench was. He forgot everything except the feel of her in his hands.
"I feel like a bad schoolgirl," she said, snuggling up into him. "I never made out in any park before, much less one abutting the family house."
He slid his hands inside the back of her pants, under her panties and over her silky skin. "Do I get to be the older guy who leads you astray?"
"Definitely." She sat up, the devil in her eyes. "Maybe I should have worn a little plaid skirt tonight."
He pictured her in it and felt himself swell in his pants. "Would you have knickers under said skirt?"
"Of course not." She lifted her head and gave him an incredulous look. "What sort of bad girl do you take me for?"
He grinned. "If you were truly a bad girl, your pants would be undone."
She reached between them and undid the top button and zipper. "Done."
"You're an obliging girl," he said as he reached deeper down behind her. His fingers flirted with her intimate folds.
"You haven't seen obliging yet." She reached behind her back and tugged her bra off. "The benefits of strapless," she said as she dropped it on the bench next to them.
He withdrew a hand and palmed her unfettered breast through her soft sweater.
"I like this." She arched into his touch, dropping her head back. "I think I was born to be a bad girl."
"You were born to be mine," he said before he could check himself.
She opened her eyes, spearing him with their bright clarity. "You like bad girls?"
"I like you." He slipped his hand under her sweater, coming in contact with her bare breast. He ran his palm over the hard tip as his other hand reached further under her, until it curled far enough to sink into her wetness.
"You're convincing." She sighed as she rode his hand. "But I think you're just after sex."
"There's no such thing as 'just sex' with you." He rolled her nipple between his fingers, delicately at first, knowing she loved that. "And we're in the common gardens behind your house."
She looked around. "You think someone could come out and discover us?"
"I don't know whether I should be horrified or praise the Lord that you sound intrigued by that prospect."
"Maybe just enjoy the moment."
"That I can do." He withdrew his hand from the back of her pants and brought it around to the front, his thumb rubbing the spot that drove her mindless.
She dropped her head back, her hips rolling against his hand. "Did I mention that this is really exciting?"
"No, but I noticed you liked it." He lifted her sweater to bare one breast, pale in the faint moonlight. He lowered his head, arching her up at the same time to lick its raspberry-tipped peak.
She moaned, none too softly.
"Shh," he whispered against her curves. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"
"No, not before." She planted her hands on his thighs and bent back.
He looked at her, writhing in his lap, glorious in the night shadows. Her eyes were closed, but her lips parted in passion, her hair flowing loosely behind her.
