“I want to undress you.”
He stood, held his arms wide on either side. “By all means. Go ahead.” She stood up with a bounce and circled him once. Decisions, decisions. Well, actually, there were few options. The waistcoat and cravat must come off before the shirt could and the jacket must come off first of all. She lifted the lapels of his jacket away from his chest and peeled them back, rolling the tight sleeves off his shoulder and down his arms. The jacket fit him like a glove, and it took some tugging. He smiled at her all the while, appearing amused at her grunts and huffs.
The waistcoat came away easier, and when she tangled her fingers in his cravat, her pulse intensified. He had a delicious neck, and she thought she might kiss it. Would he like it? There was only one way to find out.
“You’re quite good at that!”
She met his gaze. “At what?”
“At undoing a fellow’s cravat.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Indeed. Have you?” His voice held a knife’s edge. “What’s his name? The contortionist or the painter?”
“Neither. As children, our father set us various challenges, ‘artistic explorations’ he called them. We were to take something that was not art and make it into art. One such exploration involved cravats. Raph refused to play along, as usual, and learned every fashionable knot he could instead. I finished my challenge early, but liked tying knots, so I copied Raph for weeks, learning the art of the cravat with him. And then there was Leo, who can’t tie a cravat to save his life. So I helped a time or two.” She pulled the last knot undone and let the cloth dangle down his chest, admiring the sinewy strength of his throat, the hard lines of his jaw.
“Does he have a valet for that?”
“He doesn’t like them. Prefers to be alone.” She met his gaze. “I’d prefer not to speak of my brothers right now.”
“True. Delightful story, though. I’m glad to know should I manage to lose my valet, God forbid, I’d not be without help.”
She grinned, slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his breeches, and pulled the ends of his shirt free. Then she pulled the shirt over his head and undid his fall. As she shimmied his pants down his legs, he stepped out of them for her, and soon his stockings and smalls were done away with as well.
They stood naked with one another, but Maggie felt no shame, only excitement for the night ahead, admiration for the beauty of the man standing before her, and desire for everything he offered.
He quirked a smile at her and her heart stuttered. When it started pumping rhythmically again, it felt new, different. Perhaps that was because now it beat for the man before her, the man she loved. Her mother’s dream had been right after all.
* * *
Tobias had never felt so tight with desire, so hard for a woman, in his entire life. Her rosy skin glowed in the candlelight, and her eyes sparkled with a thousand emotions he wanted to know about. And he would have time to discover them because she was his. His wife, night and day, happy and sad, serious and laughing. They would do it all together. Nothing would stand between them.
He pressed his aching body against hers and drew her into his arms, walking her backward until their legs bumped against the bed. “There are a million ways to do this, Maggie. Which would you prefer?” He nipped her earlobe.
She shivered. “A million? Truly? I don’t believe you.”
“Remember, I’m all seriousness this evening. No teasing.”
“You exaggerate, surely.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps a bit. Or perhaps, many simply lack our imagination. If there are not a million ways, we will discover them. The world will thank us.”
He meant her to laugh, but the breath left her body, and she melted against him. His cock pressed against her silky skin, and damn it, he’d have to find a way to go slow this night even though his body demanded hers that very instant. He picked her up, sat her on the edge of the bed, and settled himself beside her. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Good. Because you’ll be there a while. You are little, but there is much of you to explore, nonetheless. And much of you to become reacquainted with, too.” He’d fantasized about their encounter after the kiss in the garden almost every night since it had happened. It had haunted him day and night, forcing him to take his own release on the memory of her sweet moans and innocent arching hips. But tonight, they would take their releases together, and he would have new memories of her fevered flesh.
What need had he of memories when she would be his bed companion each night?
He licked the valley between her breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth. She wrapped her fingers around his shoulders and moaned. Good. He wanted her to feel real, earthy, as far from an ethereal muse as possible.
Her hands roamed away from his shoulders and down his back. When they came to his ass, they stilled. Hesitant? When they squeezed him gently, a wave of pleasure washed over him. Pleasure at the physical touch, her boldness, yes, but also pleasure that it washer, Maggie. Had he ever felt that way before? Seared by a woman, torn asunder?
He kissed her hard, incapable of being gentle with such emotions rocking through him.
She did not pull back. She did not frighten. She pulled his head to her and matched his ferocity. He lost himself in their kiss. But it did not matter. With her lips to his, with their breaths mingling, who he was no longer mattered. He was hers. That fact alone rang true.
