She burst into tears. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she shrugged him off and, burying her face in her hands, began weeping in earnest.
“Christ. This is mad.” Through her tears, she saw him rake a hand through his hair. “How could you think that you revolt me? The opposite is true. You’re beautiful, and I want you… but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re lying,” she wailed, “just to make me feel better.”
Sobs shook her. She felt hurt, agitated, and, truth be told… a teensy bit daft. A part of her knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. These days, emotions rolled over her in sudden, overwhelming waves, and she struggled to find her equilibrium.
“Twenty-seven days.”
At his non sequitur, she stopped crying long enough to say, “Pardon?”
“Twenty-seven days.”
“I heard you the first time, but I don’t know what you mean,” she said, sniffling.
“It’s been twenty-seven days since I last made love to you,” he clarified.
His meaning hit her like a face full of sunshine.
“You’ve beencounting?” she breathed.
“Days, hours, sometimes even the damned minutes,” he said ruefully. “Why did you think I offered to sleep in the dressing room just now? You’d tempt a saint, and I’m trying to be a considerate husband. One who doesn’t make demands on his wife when she’s not feeling well. Christ, Primrose, I’llalwayswant you—and knowing you have my babe inside you, seeing you glow with new life… you’ve never been more beautiful or desirable to me.”
Once again, emotions swept over her. Only this time, they were waves of relief and joy.
“Oh, Andrew,” she said tremulously, “I’m so glad you think so. To be honest, I haven’t been glowing with life; I’ve been perspiring in the most unmentionable fashion.”
“Minx.” His mouth twitched. “I know you haven’t been comfortable. Why do you think I’ve left you alone?”
“It was all… for me?” She felt ridiculous and swoony at the same time.
He nodded.
“You’re the most considerate, most wonderful, most loving husband in theworld,” she blurted.
Lines crinkled around his eyes. “Is that all?”
“I’m, um, sorry if I’ve been acting a bit daft.”
“At least you seem to be feeling better.”
“I am,” she said brightly. The storm had passed; she felt better than she had in weeks.
“Excellent.” His slow, sensual smile stirred a different sort of turbulence in her. “Then you can make it up to me. Your considerate, wonderful, and—might I add—randy husband.”
He swept aside the coverlet, revealing his magnificent erection.
Rosie giggled. “Youdidmiss me.”
“Wretch. You know you have this effect on me.”
“Shall I kiss it better?”
His coffee-dark gaze turned steamy. “I always love it when you do.”
She made a space for herself between his legs. Taking firm hold of his cock in both her hands, she brought her lips to the burgeoned head and gave it a generous lick. His chest heaved, and on the second swipe of her tongue, she tasted his essence: salty, male, and infinitely arousing. Eagerly, she took more of him, reveling in the sounds he made, the way his hands clenched in her hair when he hit the end of her throat.
“Christ, yourmouth,” he growled. “You make me feel so bloody good.”
