“Maybe,” she admitted.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Mark grabbed her hand and tugged her up the stairs. “Come on.”
“Where did you even find a shop that sells this?” Ellen hissed, tripping up the stairs. Her hat bobbed on her head, the brim slanting across her vision. She glanced behind her to see Gaye shaking out her cloak and pretending not to notice them.
“Dryden gave me a suggestion, so I went and picked it up myself.”
“You didn’t send him?” Ellen marveled that her private husband would ever be found near one of those shops, let alone asking for…whatever he bought.
Mark bounded down the hall, and Ellen had to grab up her skirts to keep up with him.
“Wait up!” she laughed.
He paused at the door to her room, hair disheveled and eyes twinkling. “You don’t believe I did it, do you?”
“Not really,” she admitted, smiling back. She squeezed his hand.
“Oh ye of little faith.”
“I am prepared to be mistaken.” Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the lips.
Mark made a surprised sound, and before she could pull away, he’d tugged her against his hard body and cradled her face in both his hands. His lips, warm and soft, folded over hers as the faint scent of his cologne reached her nose. Stubble scratched against her jaw as the wire rim of his spectacles brushed the side of her face, and she shivered in delight at the myriad of sensory details.
Her hands crept up his chest and her fingers slid between the buttons of his waistcoat.
Mark smiled against her lips, one hand leaving her jaw, and the door flew open. He gripped her shoulder just before she stumbled through the doorway. He kissed her again, pressing her backward, guiding her through the maze of furniture and rugs, until the back of her knees hit the bed. Then he pulled away to look at her as he tugged at her hat. “Are you going to remove that? I’d do a better job kissing without it.”
“You were doing pretty well,” she said coyly, but obligingly reached up to pull out her hatpins. As she did so, Mark walked to her vanity and brought back a long, narrow black box. It was roughly the size of—well, roughly the size of an erect penis.
Mark stood in front of her and lifted the lid to reveal a vulcanized rubber sheath.
“You did do it,” Ellen breathed, looking up into his smug face. “I’m impressed. I’ve never seen one before. It…it looks like something a snake might shed.”
Mark laughed. “It does not! It’s far too brown for that.” He pulled out the thin rubber tube. “It’s so smooth, feel it.”
Ellen ran a finger along it, impressed by how smooth and thin the rubber was. “How does it work? Do we have to let it soak for a while like the sheep gut ones?”
He gave her a look. “And how do you know?”
“I’ve visited brothels,” she said in an off-handed way, to see how’d he respond.
“Mmmm, my very own seductress.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re wearing far too many clothes.”
“Why don’t I undress you while you read the directions?” She stood and reached for his waistcoat. “It’ll be a race.”
“What’s the prize for winning?” The hand not holding the sheath traced fingers down the column of her throat and worked open the top two buttons of her collar. Her pulse fluttered against his fingers.
She licked her lips. “Whatever the winner wants.”
His hand lifted back to her chin, and his thumb stroked her lower lip.
She flicked her tongue out to his thumb and relished the little gasp he made. Then he slid it into her mouth. She took him in and sucked, locking eyes.
Desire heated his gaze, and his jaw went slack. “Ellen,” he whispered, taking the last step between them. “God, I need you.”
She popped the thumb from her mouth and gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile. “You better win then.” She chuckled at Mark’s groan, but went straight to his waistcoat.
“Larson’s Seamless Paragon Sheaths,” Mark read. “Directions for use: These sheaths are made, without joint or seam, from one piece of rubber. They are a great improvement upon, blast, that’s not worth reading. Hmm…roll up on its rim between forefinger and thumb…I can buy spermicide and lubricant if I like, but I didn’t, so moving on…”