Make Her Wish Come True Collection. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
glanced back to catch an expression of longing on his face. And sadness.
‘You miss her.’
His expression froze.
Her stomach dropped. ‘I beg your pardon. I should not have—’
‘It is all right,’ he said harshly.
Clearly it was not all right. The man looked haunted. ‘I am sorry, I should not have said what I did.’
‘No. It really is all right. I don’t know what brought it to mind. I haven’t thought of it for years.’
* * *
Adam could not believe he had forgotten how much simple pleasure a man could find combing a woman’s hair. Especially when she was sitting between his legs and was as gorgeous and voluptuous as this one. He’d missed the easy companionship of a wife. The fact that he could enjoy it with someone other than Marion should feel like a betrayal, but somehow it did not. It felt right. And good.
Too bad he’d only have this one chance to play maid for Cassie. He’d clearly reacted in a way that made her uncomfortable. He’d been surprised. And, yes, a bit sad at the thought that perhaps he was finally leaving Marion in the past. It had shocked him, too.
He lifted a strand of Cassie’s hair to his nose and breathed in the clean scent of his personal soap. His blood tingled with pleasure at the idea of his scent on her body.
No matter their good intentions, all men truly were primitive beasts at heart.
He teased away at the rest of the tangles, trying not to think or feel. Soon this pleasure would be over and he’d be sending her off to bed. ‘All done,’ he said regretfully.
She shifted, her beautiful rounded posterior wedging itself tighter against his groin, against his rock-hard arousal. She must know the effect she was having on him.
The sultry glance she cast over her shoulder at that moment said she likely did. As did her kiss when she leaned back and cupped his cheek, turning her face towards him. They kissed.
Lovely. Sweet. And hellishly erotic.
‘Will you make love to me tonight?’ she asked softly against is mouth. ‘Properly.’
The words heated his blood to boiling. Temptation was a hard knot in his stomach. And why not when she asked so sweetly?
‘When are your menses due next?’
Heat washed along her cheek where their skin touched. A blush. Had her husband not talked to her about these things?
‘In two days’ time,’ she said quietly.
‘You are regular?’
A shy smile. ‘Like a clock.’
‘Then it should be safe.’ Thank all the stars shining in the heavens. He let go a breath. ‘There are no guarantees, though. You must promise me that if a child should result, you will come to me.’
He’d reveal his real name tomorrow. Regret filled him. When she knew who he was the easiness they’d found in each other’s company would no doubt be lost. And that would be a shame. A piercing ache in his chest at the idea he might never see her again shocked him. Could he be… smitten? Surely not. That was the last thing he wanted. Another grand passion.
Still he would regret their parting. Perhaps rather than confess like a schoolboy, he would tuck his calling card in her pocket where she would find it later, along with his purse. He could not bear the thought of spoiling this moment by seeing her regard for him change to awe or, worse yet, cold calculation of his worth. He certainly did not want her to know he was the man who had decided to evict her. Better she discover that after he left.
He lifted her onto his lap and kissed her deeply. She sighed into his mouth and kissed him back far more confidently than before. What a delight she was. What an undeserved gift. With her still in his arms, he pushed to his feet. ‘We are going to do this,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘in a soft feather bed and not on a cold hard floor.’
He carried her up the stairs to his chamber.
The man was immensely strong. She knew it intellectually, having observed him carry the Yule log, but this was entirely a more personal experience. Never in her wildest dreams had Cassie imagined being carried so effortlessly in a man’s arms. Never dreamed such a thing would melt her from the inside out. She felt deliciously feminine. Sensual. Beloved? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, an effort to recapture reality.
Sensual would do perfectly well. It, too, was a novel experience.
‘I can walk,’ she said, hoping she did not sound as breathless as she felt. Or as regretful at the thought he might take her up on her offer.
‘You will not trot about in chilly corridors wearing only a towel; not to mention you have bare feet, madam.’
She pressed her face into his shoulder to hide her smile. His tone might be brusque, but really, how long had it been since anyone cared so much as a jot for her comfort?
The door he stopped at was not her chamber. ‘Hold tight,’ he said, shifting her weight.
While she clung to his neck, he opened the door, kicking it closed behind them. Only the glow from the fire lit their way, but it was easy to see this was a room of grand proportions, with a huge four-poster bed, its sheets in a messy tumble.
He set her down gently in a large armchair beside the fire which he promptly attacked with a poker, causing flames to flare up, before adding more coal.
He turned to look at her and then glanced at the bed. ‘I left in somewhat of a hurry when I saw the fire.’
‘I appreciate you not stopping to make the bed.’
He grinned, a piratical flash of white teeth in the gloom. ‘Give me a moment to warm the sheets.’
The pleasure of watching him work with brisk efficiency came as a surprise. What would it be like to be entitled to watch a young virile male go about his daily tasks? A privilege indeed.
And then he was sweeping her up in his arms again. He deposited her gently in the centre of the bed and pulled the sheet over her. Warm sheets. How luxurious.
‘You should probably be rid of your towel before the sheets become damp.’
She wiggled out of the towel and dropped it over the side of the bed. ‘Damp sheets would never do.’
As giddy as a schoolgirl, she watched him also divest himself of his bath towel. In the glow of the fire, he looked like a dark god of war, all carved muscle and flat planes outlined in shadow. A Zeus or an Atlas. He slipped beneath the covers, scooting right up along her length and lying on his side, his head propped on one hand. Delicious warmth rolled off him. He toyed with her hair where it spread out on the pillows, gazing into her face, his mouth a terrible temptation to her own.
‘Comfortable?’ he asked.
Comfortable, no. What woman could be comfortable in such a situation? But she was excited. Nervous. And happy, though it was tinged with the sadness of knowing they soon must part.
She stroked his hair back from his forehead and kissed his lips in answer to his question. He sighed deeply and kissed her back, coming up on his hand to bend over her. He took his time wooing her lips, causing her to rise up in impatience and better feel his hard warm chest against her breasts. Obligingly, he caressed first one breast, then the other, seemingly fascinated by their fullness, the way they filled his hand to overflowing. The tightness inside her body had her gasping for more. And when his mouth left hers and he kissed his way slowly across her face, lingering at her neck and moving on to the rise of her breast, she thought she might go mad with anticipation. She twisted her body to bring herself closer, to feel the sensation of skin against skin down the length of her body. The press of his hardness against her hip only served as further torture. Delightful torment.
Hot and wet, his mouth