“Who is Thomas?” Nash didn’t truly care about the maid’s personal interests, but now was not the time to bring a new individual into their house. No one could be trusted.
Sophie tugged on the fingers of her elbow-length gloves until they were loosened, then slid them off and draped them over the top of a chair. “Calm down. Thomas is our footman and has been in our employ for several years.”
“Then why is this romance just happening now?”
“Because, unlike you,” she said as she plucked out her hairpins and let her coppery locks tumble free, “Thomas appears to be painfully shy.” She laughed. “But the poor man doesn’t stand a chance. Marie can be quite determined.”
Nash moved in behind her, combing his fingers through her luscious curls. An errant hairpin caught on his nail. “Missed one, my love.”
“Thank you.” Sophie took it from him and bent to place it on the table with the others.
Unable to resist the temptation, Nash caught hold of her sweet rump and pulled her back against him. “Such a wondrous woman,” he groaned while pulling her harder against him and sliding a hand around to cup one of her breasts.
She reached back to pull him around for a kiss. “Undress me, my love, and we can be wondrous together.”
If Nash had his way about it, he would rip off her clothes. The thought made him laugh as he undid the hooks and buttons of her gown.
“And what is so amusing?” she asked as she kicked off her slippers.
He spun her around to face him and caught her up against his chest. “I could have you as I want you much faster if I ripped off your clothes.”
She eyed him with mock sternness while undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. “That could become quite costly, my dear. And besides—this is one of my favorite gowns.” She tiptoed to kiss him as she shoved his jacket down off his shoulders. “I have you pinned now, my lord.”
“And what will you do with me, my wanton lover?”
She reached down, undid the buttons of his falls, and slid her hand inside. “Whatever I wish,” she promised in a throaty whisper.
His buttocks tightened as she treated him to a long, slow pull of his hardness, then reached even lower with her other hand and cupped his bollocks while stroking him more. An appreciative groan rumbled free of him. Her touch was perfection.
“Nakedness would be so much more advantageous,” she said as she shoved his pantaloons downward. “Oh dear. I forgot about your Hessians. Sit, so I can rid you of these dratted boots.”
“I believe it would be much more efficient if we each stripped ourselves.” He wanted her naked, himself buried inside her, and the lusciousness of her breasts in his mouth. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.” She stepped back and shed everything—petticoat, stays, chemise, and stockings—then stood there, unashamedly nude and breathtaking.
With himself stripped down to nothing, he strode forward and clutched her close, skin to skin, glorious, hot flesh to flesh. He breathed in her delectable scent of jasmine and a woman ready to be taken as he stretched her back across the couch and settled down on top of her. “Gads, I cannot get enough of you.”
“Good.” With her eyes half closed and her smile seductive, she trailed her hands down his back, caught hold of his buttocks, and squeezed. “Take me to oblivion, my love. I am more than ready.”
As he pushed into her hot wetness, he heartily agreed. “Pure heaven,” he rasped, burying himself fully and grinding deeper. He took her mouth in a heated kiss while teasing her with the slightest thrusting of his hips.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back just as wildly while arching up into him, matching the rhythm of her movements with his.
They clung together in the fierce bond, moving as one, skin sliding against skin, fully joined. Sophie shuddered and clutched around him, her wet hotness squeezing him, urging him to give her his all. A moan escaped her as she raked her fingers down his back and dug her nails into his flanks. Her need matched his, the ache to drive and pound until they both exploded with bliss.
Elbows locked, Nash drove hard, reveling not only in every delicious sensation but also in the sight of her lying beneath him, flushed pink with passion.
She cried out, bucked upward, then trembled and groaned while clutching him tighter.
Control shattered, blind lust and passion bade him pound, and pound he did. A roar ripped from his throat as he emptied into her. Once spent, he collapsed, saving her from his weight by catching himself on his forearms.
“Gads,” he gasped against her throat.
Her arms tightened around him, and she pulled him downward. “Indeed.”
The lazy, purring way she drawled the word made him smile. He had pleased his wife as much as she had pleased him. A contentedness filled him, prompting him to lift himself enough to give her a tender kiss. “No more risks, my love. Promise me—please?”
She raked her fingers through his hair, combing it back from his forehead. “I shall try my very best to be more thoughtful about how I go about things.” Her delicate brows drew together, lightly furrowing her irritated expression. “It is so hard to behave as though one might die at any moment from a villain’s killing shot.”
