Hopelessly, desperately in love with her husband.
I feel as if my heart has always known his.
How terrifying.
Chapter Twelve
Ways to be Wicked
1.Kiss a man until you are breathless.
2.Arrange for an assignation. Perhaps with Lord Q?
3.Get caught in the rain with a gentleman. (This will necessitate the removal of wet garments. Choose said gentleman wisely.)
4.Sneak into a gentleman’s bedchamber in the midst of the night.
5.Go to a gentleman’s private apartments.
6.Spend a night in a gentleman’s bed.
7.Make love in the outdoors.
8.Ask
Once had not been enough.
A terrifying realization, that.
Decker had woke that morning with an erection to rival Priapus. His new wife had been tucked safely away in her chambers, sleeping soundly, no doubt, leaving him to once more take himself in hand to thoughts of her.
Thoughts which were a thousand times more erotic now that he had actually been inside her tight, wet heat. His cock, however, refused to oblige him. He had been unable to spend.
Frustrated, he had settled himself at the breakfast table where his newspapers awaited him only to discover Jo was already there, looking utterly ravishing and giving him a second go at winning the prize for cockstand of the century. All before half past eight in the morning.
He, who prided himself upon his silver tongue and rakish charm, was unexpectedly speechless. He stopped at the threshold of the dining room, drinking in the sight of her. She was wearing a cobalt-blue silk gown patterned with blushing pink roses. The gown was eye-catching and bright, but it was the loving fit of it, showing off her curved waist, the décolletage trimmed with blonde lace revealing a mouthwatering hint of her bosom, that almost ended him.
She paused in the act of filling her plate from the sideboard, her hair piled high atop her crown, more stunning than he had ever seen her. “Good morning.”
Her soft smile and the sudden color in her cheekbones told him she was thinking of all that had passed between them the evening before. So was he. In fact, there was not room for anything else in his mind. Not even words.
And so he bowed to her with something that resembled a grunt rather than a return of her morning salutation. Doing his best to hide his unfortunate condition from the servants overseeing the early morning meal, he strode toward the sideboard.
He was about to snatch up a plate and help himself to his customary bacon, ham, eggs, and fruit when it occurred to him he was a husband now. Eating breakfast was no longer a solitary affair. Perhaps it would now involve manners and communication beyond burying himself in the newspapers.
He was not sure he liked that just yet.
Decker cleared his throat and turned to his still-blushing bride. “May I fill your plate for you?”
Some of the color fled her cheeks at last. “I shall do for myself, thank you. Unless you prefer it?”
It was clear she did not want to displease him. And further that she was as out of her depths as he was. Some part of him—that old, stalwart bachelor—was having difficulty believing this was his new life. That he had a wife.
Nothing has to change, he reminded himself.My life can be just as it was.
“Whatever you wish is what I would prefer, my dear,” he said.
There. He could be an accommodating husband.
