“I’ll do it,” he said, “to be quick.”
“Not if it ruins everything,” she said, watching him take off the studs that held it in place.
“I was teasing.” His voice was husky. “There is no etiquette, no list, no rules. Only myself torturing us with an idiotic game.”
She laughed. “It was appreciated,” she said. “Truly. When you said there were rules, I calmed a little.”
He barked out a laugh. “I knew you would. But there are none except to pleasure one another.”
“I see.”
He tugged his fine lawn shirt out of his trousers, showing it to be longer than she thought. With his arm arched over his shoulder, he grabbed a handful of the cotton, shrugged his shoulders, and drew it over his head.
Her mouth dropped open as she watched the play of his shoulder muscles. He was spectacular.
“Your corset,” he said, and the hoarse tenor of his voice made it obvious he was as affected by her as she was by him. He made quick work of the laces and hooks with practiced fingers until she was in her chemise, drawers, and stockings.
She resisted the urge to scratch her rib cage as she normally would. That didn’t seem a particularly ladylike thing to do in mixed company, even in front of her husband.
And then he reached for her, feathering his fingers into her hair.
“Ow! My maid used extra pins and combs and an aigrette,” she explained with an apologetic shrug, “to secure my coiffure. I shall need a minute.”
Luckily, there was a small mirror atop his chest of drawers. If she was to share the room, she would have to replace it with a more generously sized looking glass. In any case, she drew out the many accessories and then unplaited her hair before running her fingers through it.
All the while, she was aware of him leaning against the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles, as he watched her.
“Your maid was expecting a strong wind,” he said wryly.
She nodded, feeling nervous again.
“Kitten,” he said softly when she dithered with her back to him. “Come here.”
Taking a last glance at herself in the mirror, she turned.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Matthew had never wanted any woman more than he wanted Purity at that moment. He’d been determined not to pounce like a wolf and overwhelm her, but the slow approach had become intolerable.
Holding out his hand, he was gratified when she came willingly toward him, and he could pull her against his body. At last! Spreading his legs, he nestled her close to his hips, caging her with his thighs.
It seemed a lifetime that he’d waited for her, and in truth, it had been. A lifetime of meaningless encounters.
Unfastening the tiny buttons of her chemise, he loosened the neckline enough to draw it down one of her exquisite shoulders and then the other before she shimmied out of it.
He wanted to give her all the pleasure he possibly could and not disappoint her in the least. At the same time, she was the most precious creature he had ever met, and he intended to be gentle.
“I confess, to me, you are like a fragile crystal figurine or a porcelain doll.”
At once, she wrapped his fingers around her bare left breast, warm and soft, and held it there.
“I am flesh and blood.”
“And the prettiest breast I have ever seen.”
“How fortunate,” she said, taking his other hand. “I have another just like it.”
She surprised him with her boldness, and he could barely breathe for wanting her.
