Unable to help herself, she dipped her head to steal a peek. August’s big, very big, member made a tent of his black trousers.
“Meghan?”
She whipped her head up. “Hmm?”
His eyes were the dessert-eyes. The one a person got when only blancmange and poached pear and whim wham were about.
“Did you see me staring?”
“I saw you staring.” He smirked and ran his hand over that big bulge.
She lifted her hopeful expression to him. “Are you going to show it to me?”
“In due time,” he said.
When he held out a hand, she placed her fingers in his, trusting him because she wanted to. August turned her so her back was to him.
His fingers moved to the ties of her dress.
The hot sigh of his breath caressed her neck.
“Do you trust me, my love?”
“I—I would be foolish to.”
He chuckled. “We are both fools for each other.”
That she doubted, but he said it, and it sounded so lovely she decided not to contradict him. Plus, she wanted it to be true.
August chuckled. “I shall take your lack of denial as a yes.”
He purred like a panther. “Foolish girl.”
Even his insult sounded like praise.
The delicate brush of his lips ghosted her neck.
Meghan’s body quickened.
He loosened the stays at the back of her gown.
She stood breathless, barely daring to move, afraid he’d stop.
“I’m going to take care of you, Meghan,” he vowed.
Though suggestive, his tone was gentle, not crude.
“August?” She stopped him, even though she really didn’t want to.
He paused. “Yes, love?”
“Will you help me take care of my mouth?”
She pinkened and looked at his chest. If she could not look him in the eyes, then she decided staring at his chest was a very good option.
August nudged his knuckles along her chin. “We are not shy around one another.”
“You aren’t shy around anyone,” she mumbled. “I am.”
