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front of his waistcoat was dark-patterned quilted cotton, but it was plain linen in back. She could see his shoulder blades bunch. “I think I’ve some sandpaper in my things. Why don’t we clear off this table so we can sand away the knife-marks and oil it?”
    A moment ago she’d been sure he wanted to kiss her too. He must . He’d—well, if he wanted it, he’d better self-command than she had, and she’d ought to be grateful for it.
    Sukey was tired of being grateful. Of pulling back from boldness at the last moment. She was tired of keeping herself shut tight like a book no one wanted to read.
    She’d seen some traveling players put on The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood , as a girl. She still remembered the princess’s hand reaching for the spindle, enchanted and unknowing, while every child in Market Square shouted at her not to do it.
    Sukey’s hand came up ever so slowly and laid itself flat on Mr. Toogood’s back, her palm just to the right of his spine. Her thumb touched one of the knobs in his backbone; she circled it, curious.
    His muscles went rigid under her hand. Her sharply indrawn breath was the echo of his. “I’m old enough to be your father,” he said.
    She almost yanked her hand away.
    But that wasn’t a no . It was only an I hadn’t ought to , and at the moment the difference between those two things was very clear to Sukey.
    This was so stupid. She’d liked men before. She’d been slippery between her legs. But she’d kept her wits about her. Why couldn’t she today?
    It was those boots. He’d got her all soft and pliant with his hands on her boots, even if it was only because he liked things to be done properly and nothing to do with her at all, and now she didn’t need any sweet words or petting to seduce her.
    “I’m sure between the two of us we can contrive to make your cock stand, even so.” She slid her hand down to the small of his back, eenamost to that flare she’d admired earlier. She hadn’t quite the nerve to touch that.
    When he’s inside me , she thought. When he’s inside me I’ll pull him closer with both hands. God, she was on fire.
    He turned towards her, cock obviously standing. She smiled, suddenly happy as well as eager, but he covered the smile with his mouth before she could finish it. His hand was flat on the table beside her, because he was too tall and had to bend to reach her. The other hand was steel around her upper arm. He growled, low and quiet like a dog giving warning, and she could feel him trembling.
    So this was kissing. Real kissing, not just a peck on the lips. He tasted her upper lip, then her lower, the inside of his mouth scalding. She didn’t know what she was doing, not really, but despite that growl he went slow enough to let her catch up. She shaped her mouth to his.
    Somehow she’d never realized before what it meant, that their mouths would be touching , that she’d be so close to him. It was like last week’s newspaper used for kindling, the past scorched over and gone in a blink, nothing left but bright blazing heat.
    Something wasn’t quite the way Sukey liked it. His mouth was open too far, she thought. So soon she discovered preferences! She held him still with a hand on the back of his neck so she could fix it. She kissed him , and he let her. His hair was soft. When she stroked the short bristling hairs at the nape of his neck, he moaned right into her mouth. That shocked her. She couldn’t breathe for the thrill of it. She wanted—could she?—did she dare?—she tried to lick his lip. Catching the edge of his teeth, she faltered, feeling silly.
    He broke the kiss, breathing hard. His light brown eyes stared into hers from too close. She had a dizzy fancy that he wasn’t looking at her so much as letting her see right into him. She tightened her fingers on his neck for balance.
    He ducked his head, leaned in and growled—there was just no other word for it—in her ear, “I brought myself to completion this