“I am,” he agreed. “Be awful and terrible with me.” Roxboro tugged her closer, until Sophia was sprawled partially across his lap. He moved and took her hand, pressing the palm to his chest. “Please.”
Sophia stretched her hand, feeling the play of muscles just beneath her fingertips. The lawn of his shirt failed to hide all those lovely hollows of sinew. Trailing her fingers down the expanse of his chest, her breathing quickened, because she knew what was beneath the shirt. And the sheet.
She’d bathed Roxboro when he was ill. But at the time, Sophia had been more concerned that he would die and she’d never be able to tell him—
“Your Grace.” Her fingers reluctantly curled away. “You are…recovering.” Sophia’s heart refused to stop fluttering about in her chest, like some crazed bird beating its wings. The ache became need and insistent, spreading down between her thighs.
“Alexander.” He caught her wrist.
“Alexander,” she repeated, shivering when her breasts brushed along his arm, nipples peaking as they strained and begged to be touched. “What is happening?”
“I’m attempting to seduce you, and I would appreciate your cooperation. Don’t worry; I haven’t the strength to do too much. Regrettably.” The tip of his nose pushed along the edge of her collarbone. “But I want to.” His tongue flicked out, catching the lobe of her ear. “Taste you a bit.” Teeth grazed her skin. “Perhaps nibble.” His mouth sucked and licked down the slope of her neck.
“This is rather unexpected.”
“Isn’t it? No one is more surprised than I.” One big hand cupped Sophia’s breast, gently testing the weight before his thumb rubbed carefully along the fabric of her dress, searching and finally finding her nipple. “But I find you…pullat me, Sophia.”
“I pull at you?” The words came out in a soft moan. “Are you comparing me,” she panted. “To a hook of some sort?”
“More like a tether. Annoying but I cannot fail to follow.” A rumble of male appreciation came from his chest. “I’ll wager these are lovely.” He took hold of the small peak between his thumb and forefinger. “Pink and dewy.”
Sophia arched slightly as a furious hum traveled from her nipple, straight down the length of her body. “That feels…”
“Good. Now, lift up your skirts,” he growled, lips pressed to the corner of her mouth. “I realize I can be clumsy at times, but I’m rather good at this.”
Given his reputation, he should be.
Shaking, Sophia obeyed, moving aside the skirts of her dress until her stockinged legs came into view. “Alexander,” she gasped as those long, elegant fingers stroked the inside of her thigh.
“I’m not a Turkish lover, that’s true. But you’ll enjoy yourself.” He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth. “I promise.”
“You’re…recovering.”
“You keep reminding me,” his voice lowered to a husky purr. A finger deftly found the opening to her underthings, which was no great surprise. He could probably have her completely undressed in under a minute.
“I think this improper,” she struggled to take a breath.
The finger drew along her slit in a light, exploratory touch, teasing at the dampness there. Mama hadn’t mentioned this part of physical relations. Only instructing Sophia to lie on her back.
“I’m your husband,” his lips ghosted over hers. “Nothing at all improper about me touching you.”
“The book was quite descriptive.” Sophia let out a sigh as he caressed a particularly sensitive spot. A place that ached so desperately for his touch. “Roxboro.”
“All in due time.” Roxboro gave a wicked, deep-throated chuckle. “Patience, wife.”
“Oh,” she panted as he stroked the spot repeatedly, firm but gentle, drawing out an endless stream of sensation. Her thighs trembled, his forefinger circled her opening before slowly pushing inside.
Sophia’s eyes slid shut.
Goodness that felt…as if it might be earthshattering at some point.
Another finger joined the first, stretching along her inner walls as his thumb…
Oh yes. His thumb.
Teased at that small, excited bit of flesh hidden in her folds.
Ann called it a button, but I don’t think that’s the anatomical term.
