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“I feel protected.”

Dominic narrowed his eyes, trying to understand. “Were you ever in danger?” His lips went numb, his mind racing to revenge—

“No, not that kind of danger!” she said with a gurgle of laughter. “You stand between me and the world’s unkindnesses, Dom. I don’t think you understand what it means to me. It’s bliss not to have to plan how to defuse an insult before it happens.”

True, the night before they had attended a play, and during the intermission, one of her acquaintances had made an idle comment about book-learning. Dominic didn’t pull out his rapier, but the lady acted as if he had, scurrying away after he scowled at her.

Torie ran her hands down his broad shoulders and powerful back. “I feel safe when I’m with you,” she whispered in his ear.

“I used to feel . . . unsafe around my father,” Dominic said, surprising himself. Then he came up on his elbows. “A sorry subject, and not worth talking about.”

He lowered his head to her breast. Her skin was fragrant with that perfume he liked. Torie instantly started moving under his weight, shifting her legs and gasping when he began sucking one of her nipples. After he gave her a little bite, she cried out and pushed up with her hips. “I need you,” she said, her breath sobbing from her lungs. “Dom, I need you.”

“Do you need this?” he whispered roughly, reaching between them to grasp his aching tool and bring it into position.

A sigh that seemed to come from her heart answered him. He just penetrated her, then stopped, and ran a hand down her thigh. “How much do you need me?” he said lazily.

She opened her eyes, heavy-lidded. “Dom!”

“I’m having fun,” he said in her ear, still holding off. “You said I don’t have enough fun.”

Torie’s hands curled around his biceps, and she arched up, bracing her feet. He slid in a few inches. “Not enough,” she moaned, panting as if she couldn’t get enough air.

He ran his hand over her hip. She had wonderful thighs, pillowy soft, made to cradle a man’s head. He sank his fingers into that soft curve and pulled her a little higher, giving her another inch.

Torie groaned, desperate. So he pulled her thigh up and thrust forward, rough and gentle at the same time. His wife threw her hands over her head and smiled as if he’d given her the world.

He couldn’t have described what it felt to be joined like that, to be a part of her, to have pleasure flooding his body, to have—fun.

Then it occurred to him.

Safety.

It felt like safety.

Chapter 33

Dominic knew it was coming: the very next morning in bed, when they were companionably eating toast side by side, Torie said, “Tell me about your father, Dom.”

“I’d rather not.” He put down his teacup and defensively took a huge bite of toast.

“You know everything about my father,” she pointed out, turning until she was sitting beside him like a mermaid on a rock, both legs tucked to one side. “All my secrets are in the open. In fact, they have been for years, and I promise you that it’s much more comfortable this way.”

“My father had no secrets,” he told her. “He was neither a drunkard nor a gambler.”

Torie’s thoughtful gaze felt as if she saw to the bottom of his soul.

It sent a bolt of alarm down his spine, terror that she would use her insight to control him. His father had had a seemingly magical ability to discover his small son’s greatest fears and use them against him. Thinking of it, Dominic’s mouth twisted into a sardonic grimace until, horrified, he flattened it away. He could not become his father, take on his cruelty. Try to break his children.

Appetite gone, he put down his toast.

Torie’s hand curled around his wrist. He looked down at it numbly.

“Would I have liked him?” Torie asked.

Dominic shook his head. “Absolutely not. I didn’t.”

“You once mentioned that he was miserly.”