Ambrose had just bent his stance—given an inch—a large one.
Her lips parted to say something, anything, or to just breathe. She wanted to dance on the table from relief and could not help the wide smile that spread across her face. “I agree that any negotiation on my sister’s part is separate from our marriage.”
When he returned her smile, nearly bashful in its presentation, her joy was suddenly replaced by a burning need to kiss him, to roll around the sheets, tangled limbs and all—in his bed. His earlier words had put a question in her mind, one which now refused to leave: Was there really more to discover in his bed?
As if he read her mind, he said, “And that negotiation is separate from the bedroom, as well.”
Willow couldn’t speak, but she managed a single solitary nod. When she did, his eyes filled with heat. Immediately, a mirroring heat bloomed inside her, beckoning, enticing.
For a moment, they merely stared at one another as the temperature of the room increased.
“Honesty is always a good start, don’t you think?” she finally managed in a shaky voice.
“I agree.” His lips stretched and stretched. He held her gaze for a long moment, and then murmured, “Are you going to admit, then, that there is the mutual attraction between us?”
Drawing in a breath, she slowly exhaled. “Yes, I shall admit that there is.”
It took every ounce of Willow’s nerve not to expire into a puddle as she made that statement, but the ravenous hunger on Ambrose’s face was worth the courage.
His voice dropped an octave. “I’m particularly fond of your lips.”
Willow felt herself flush in response. “I . . . I enjoy kissing you, too.”
The moment was unbearably intimate. There would be no hiding from him, no escaping his presence from this night forward.
“But what of your pledge to withhold pleasure from me?” Willow asked. It was the whole experience or none of it. She no longer wanted to enter his bed only for the sake of becoming with child. She wanted to enter his bed for the sheer pleasure she could find there.
“That? Already forgotten.” His look turned sheepish. “Not one of my proudest moments.”
You can say that again, husband.
“Then it’s purged from my mind, as well.”
He gave her an unrepentant grin. “Shall we move on to desert?”
