Philloise Re-Written

Chapter Twelve

. . . and how did you know that you and Simon were well-suited for marriage? For I am certain that there is no man to whom I should be well-suited. Not in all of Christendom!

—from Eloise Bridgerton to her sister the Duchess of Hastings, upon returning home early from yet another ball.

With the hand not holding hers, Phillip gently held Eloise's jaw. Brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. And he looked at her.

Just looked at her.

"What?" she asked, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. She knew some might consider her to be attractive, but she was no legendary beauty, and he was examining her as if he wanted to catalogue her every feature.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. "Do you know what I thought when I saw you the first time?"

Her legs turned wobbly, and her lips parted, but she couldn't seem to make them work, couldn't seem to do anything other than stare up into his dark eyes.

She shook her head, desperate for his words.

"I thought I could drown in your eyes. I thought"—he moved in closer, his words now as much breath as sound—"I could drown in you."

She felt herself swaying toward him.

She focused on the sensation of Phillip's thumb grazing her lip. The motion sent ripples of pleasure throughout her, right down to the centre of her being, where her desire for him was so palpable she actually ached. And she realized that she had never really understood the power of desire until that very moment. The late nights she had been having recently, letting her mind and hands wander, was nothing compared to sharing such a heavy moment with another.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

He smiled. "You always order me about."

"Kiss me."

"Are you sure?" he murmured against her mouth, eyes searching hers for the smallest inkling of hesitation or uncertainty.

She grabbed the back of his head and yanked him down. They came together in a cacophony of crushed lips and bumped noses. It was uncoordinated. It was messy. It was beautiful.

He chuckled as he gently pushed her away, her eyes looking at him with concern. They were barely standing an arm's length apart and she looked like he had just abandoned her on some desert island.

He bent down so he could look her in the eyes once more.

"While I welcome the enthusiasm, I am going to need a little more than that, love." She raised a brow in question, to which he continued with a teasing smile, "Are you sure you want to do this? With me?"

Eloise's throat was thick with nerves, but she recognised them as nerves of anticipation, not of fear.

"Yes," her voice cracked with nerves, making Phillip start to back off but she reached out for his hand and held it in both of hers, caressing his palm with the pad of her thumb. "Yes, I am sure. Though I must confess," she blushed as she continued, "I may need some guidance." Phillip smiled as he took a soft strand of her deep, brown hair. Moving it between his fingers and considering it like it had all the answers to life's troubles. Then his focus moved so he could gaze into those mesmerising grey eyes of hers.

"Oh, I would be more than happy to oblige." Phillip closed the distance between them, bringing his lips to hers.

Welcoming his touch and eager to reciprocate, Eloise pulled him closer as she carded her hands through his hair. Suddenly Phillip made a moaning sound Eloise had never heard from a man before. It spurred her on and she opened her mouth to him, letting his tongue sweep across hers, exploring her warmth.