“Oh!” she exclaimed as her curious eyes took in the rather lifelike rendering of Adonis’ prick.
He grinned at her, unrepentant. “Itisrather small, is it not? I can show you something far more impressive later,bijou.”
The color on her cheeks deepened.
By God, she was lovely. He wondered how many other ways he could make her flush. And how often.
She laughed. “You are a scoundrel.”
He was. No point in denying it. “I can do that for you later if you like, darling.”
Nothing would please him more than tasting her. Licking her until she came on his tongue. The sensual promise of making her his, which had been haunting him since the day his eye had first fallen upon her naughty list, beckoned. Within reach—tempting. Taunting.
Real.
As real as the water pelting them. Her silken skirts and all her underpinnings were drooping fast as the rains continued to lash them. Another twirl, and her sodden hems tripped her. Decker caught her with ease when she would have pitched into the rosebushes, hauling her into his arms.
She was deuced small, but all her layers were damned heavy when wet.
“You do not need to carry me,” she objected. “I am perfectly capable of walking myself.”
“Of course you are capable, but what manner of man would I be if I allowed my new wife to go toppling into the daisies on our wedding day?” he asked her, feeling an alarming surge of tenderness rushing inside him.
“They are roses,” she corrected, sounding breathless.
Of course he knew what the damned flowers were.
But he liked that she was breathless.
He wanted to make hermorebreathless.
“I stand corrected.” He carried her through the rain, making his way back to the doors with as much haste as he could manage. “You have a choice to make, darling. Cream ice or kisses first?”
“Decker!” Her soft exclamation did naughty things to the state of his cock. “Kisses, of course.”
So, too, did her response.
Stifling a groan, he managed to elbow and shoulder his way back into the house, where they made a dripping, saturated mess all over the carpets. Perhaps ruining them. He did not give a damn.
“You can put me down now,” she said.
“I can,” he agreed pleasantly, “but I am not going to.”
“But surely I am too heavy! I insist you stop carrying me about as if I am a doll,” Jo carried on with her protesting.
He was a man on a mission now. She wanted kisses first, and he intended to give them to her. “I have been waiting three bloody weeks to make you my wife, and now I find myself deuced reluctant to have you anywhere but in my arms.”
Which was where she belonged.
There and in his bed, of course.
And anywhere else he could have her. Oh, the delicious possibilities. At long last, he could dispense with fucking his fist.
He told himself that was the reason for the sense of rightness deep within him, that new, unexpected sensation of…what the hell was it? Contentment?Egad.That could not be it. He was simply so randy, he could not think straight.
Decker increased his pace. The quicker he could get her to his chamber, the better.
His servants were accustomed to his antics. If dinner parties in which foodstuffs were served upon naked women did not make the footmen blink an eye, their master carrying his new wife—the two of them soaked to the skin—was not cause for a second look. They passed a handful of domestics as he took them up the stairs two at a time. All lowered their gazes and pretended as if they had seen nothing amiss.
