“I thought we might talk,” she said, “that is all. If you are more interested in your newspaper than speaking with me, I shall not force you to suffer.”
That was when he heard it—the underlying note of hurt and disappointment in her voice. Something slid through him, clenching his stomach.
Remorse.
Last night had been profound. They had made love and then napped together. Later, he had shared a bath with her and had made her come once more with his fingers on her pearl beneath the warm, soothing water. They dined in his chamber and fed each other cream ice. They had just made love the once, Decker wanting to give her body time to adjust.
And how did he follow up such day?
By being an arse to her, naturally. All because the lifelong bachelor within him was rebelling at the notion of the power she had over him.
“There is nothing more interesting in this newspaper than you,” he told her, and that was the truth. “I am simply a man of routine. Forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you.” Her gaze searched his. “This is new for you. It is for me as well. We must grow familiar with our change in circumstances together.”
Together.
That was another new word, a new concept.
He wanted to hate it, but he could not muster the sentiment. Instead, all he felt was…hope.
That was it. All the blood had clearly abandoned his brain in favor of rushing to his cock.
He suddenly had an idea of one manner in which they could grow accustomed to their circumstances together. What the devil was he doing, having a civilized breakfast and poring overThe Timeswhen the woman he could not stop wanting was here, within reach?
Decker rose from his chair, stalked around the corner of the table to her. She watched with wide eyes.
“You are correct, darling.” He extended his hand. “I find myself famished, but not for breakfast.”
She settled her diminutive hand in his, and even the innocent-enough contact made his prick twitch. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we begin this morning again the proper way, as we should have done from the first.” He hauled her to her feet. “With you in my bed.”
Perhaps she oughtnot to have given in with such ease.
But as Decker kissed his way down her naked body, Jo was not sure she cared. Her earlier irritation with him had vanished like her gown and all the underpinnings beneath. His clever hands had made short work of all her trappings.
Of course, they had. Were he not a businessman, he would have made an excellent lady’s maid.
Except, no lady’s maid did what her husband was currently doing to her.
His hands were on her thighs now, coaxing her to open for him.
“Decker,” she whispered, shyness mingling with excitement and hunger. “What are you doing? You cannot possibly mean to—oh!”
When his mouth found the wildly sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, she forgot what she had been about to say.
He lifted his head, his bright-blue gaze meeting hers and stealing her breath. “I can. Relax,bijou. Let me do penance for being an oaf at the breakfast table.”
Hehadbeen an oaf. She ought to still be aggrieved with him, but maintaining her crossness became impossible when his tongue stroked over her. She gasped, her hips jerking, offering herself up to him, seeking more.
“Mmm,” he murmured into her sex as if he were feasting upon the most decadent dessert. “Perfection.”
And then, he sucked her into his mouth. And it certainly felt like perfection, what he was doing. Wonderful, wicked man.
A strangled cry escaped her. Sensation blossomed. Pleasure unfurled, beginning there at her center and radiating outward, bringing with it the desperate need for more. She had seen the act, of course, represented in his naughty alphabet pictures at his club. But a hand-tinted lithograph could hardly compare to his skilled lips and tongue.
The desire he wrung from her was intense. She writhed beneath him, moaning when he caught her between his teeth and bit.Dear. Sweet. Heavens. Above.His tongue flitted over her in quick, steady pulses, soothing that sting, sending flutters of heat through her.
