My Last Duchess, стр. 16

That meant she got to see Hugo’s eyes darken and his jaw clench as he pulled open her dressing gown.

She followed his eyes down. She was a creamy, curvy type of woman, whose breasts had become even more lavish after nursingViola.

The desperation in his eyes fired her blood—past a simmer, straight to a boil that made her shift on the bed, pink risingin her cheeks, her hands reaching for him.

He moved back and pulled off his wrapper. She caught a flash of hard male body, a slice of golden skin, and then his mouthcrashed down on hers and his body lowered with hardly more grace.

His weight made a sob rise in her throat. There was something so comforting about being surrounded by warm strength. The feelingof a man’s body on top of hers was marvelous.

He began kissing the side of her neck, so she turned her head and ran her hands over powerful shoulders.

She felt untethered, as if she were held to the bed only by the weight of his body. How could she have forgotten the deliciousfeeling of skin roughed by hair, hard-muscled thighs, and hard other things? Hugo rolled against her and her arms tightenedas her belly clenched. A puff of air escaped her lips.

“Tell me if I’m too heavy,” he murmured.

“I like it,” she said. She almost stopped there, but this man wasn’t her husband—and she didn’t want another husband. Witha lover, she could be absolutely honest. So she kept going. “I like the way our knees knocked together, and the fact yourarse is extremely muscled.”

His grin was pure mischief, a man’s wicked fun, not a boy’s.

She let her fingers dance over his bottom, making him shiver. “I would never have mentioned that word to Peter.”

“Could we forget the word ‘Peter’ and keep ‘arse’ instead?” He pulled back, coming up on his knees so she could see his face.He was older than Peter had been, with traces of laughter around his eyes.

“You don’t fancy comparisons?” She reached up and traced the amused arch of his lip.

“Not allowed in polite society,” he stated, with all the calm authority of a duke.

“Are there any other rules I should know about extramarital congress?”

“No thinking. Thinking is as bad as mentioning former spouses.”

“I can’t stop thinking,” Ophelia said. “I think all the time.” A little panic slid down her spine. She pictured the way she and Peter had made love.They were invariably courteous and kind with each other. Of course they had been thinking during the act.

She had constantly thought about what Peter would like her to do next. She had the strong feeling he had done the same. That’swhy their marital life had been so successful.

But just as that panic rose, it dissipated. She wasn’t marrying the duke. What they did in bed this evening wouldn’t set apattern for future years to come.

“I will try to make you stop thinking,” Hugo said. His voice rumbled, confident and happy at the same time. “Making love isa time to be in the flesh.”

Ophelia wrinkled her nose. “Is that some sort of pun on intimacy?”

“In your flesh?” His eyes danced with laughter when he leaned over and kissed her, and somehow joy came with his touch.

Ophelia didn’t pull back until she decided that if they didn’t move on to being “in the flesh,” she might burst. Her insideswere tightening; no, all her muscles were tight. Every time he thrust his tongue between her lips, her heart beat faster,and her hands clutched him more tightly. Her core was aching for him in a way that she didn’t remember.

Because it had been so long: that was the only reason she didn’t remember. Hugo would never succeed in making her stop thinking.Thinking was what she did best.

Another twinge of anxiety went through her. Did she even understand how to do a bedding that had nothing to do with marital satisfaction, or procreation? One that was for nothing more than shared pleasure?

“Are there any other rules?” she asked, surprised by the hoarse tone in her voice.

“Experience suggests that I have energetic seed, so I will do my best to protect you.” Hugo leaned over and picked up somethingthat Ophelia instantly recognized, because Maddie had told her about it. The object had the appearance of a sausage withoutfilling, oddly adorned on one end with a pink ribbon.

She wrinkled her nose. “I surmise that is a condom.”

Hugo shrugged and dropped it back on the bedside table. “We’ll have no use for it unless you promise to marry me.”

“What?” Ophelia’s eyes caught on his chest. He had a delicious set of indentations that led right down his torso. Muscles,presumably. And he had a trail of hair that arrowed down to his . . . And her eyes stopped again, lower.

The duke was a great deal larger than Peter had been. In fact, he was of a size that she considered—though she had never consideredsuch a thing before—to be obstructive. Perhaps impossible.

His eyes followed hers. “Yes, there’s that.”

“I see,” she said carefully.

Hugo moved backward, and her eyes moved with him. “It’s not that interesting,” he said.

“Actually, it is.”

“Same general shape as most men’s, from what I’ve seen.”

He ran his hands down her front, his fingers pausing on her nipples, sweeping on and around her sides to her back. “Let’sgo back to discussing arses.” His hands curved under her body, around her bottom, and a hoarse sound escaped his throat. “Yoursis marvelously round. Perfect, in fact.”

Ophelia’s mind had split in two. Part of her brain was busily informing the rest of her that this behavior was utterly inappropriate.She couldn’t take her eyes off the part of him that rose proudly, bobbing in the air. The sight of him made the melting sensationin her stomach increase. Probably that was sinful. Certainly it was embarrassing.

The other part of her mind suggested she tuck her arms behind her head, so she did, causing her bosom to rise into the air.He wasn’t the only one who had impressive . . . parts.

She did as well.

“Are you