Page 67 of The Trouble with a Dare

Grace sat up on her elbows, staring at him in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

He grinned at her. “Bainbridge told me, and Henry. Their wives both took dares, I believe. And so, this is yours?”

“Yes,” she said with a huff, laying back and folding her arms, trying to look cross with him. “And now you’ve spoiled it.”

“No, I haven’t.” He cleared his throat and read aloud. “Get a stubborn man to do your bidding.”

Grace watched as he regarded her, expressionless.

“Shouldn’t ought to be beyond you, love. Not as you’ve already begun. You got your way about the farm, didn’t you? Reckon you could get me to do just about anything, if you put your mind to it.”

She stared up at him, recognising the challenging look in his eyes, and her cheeks heated as she realised what he was implying.

“Oh.”

He climbed off her and settled himself against the pillows, watching her with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, go on then.”

“Oh, but Sterling, I c-can’t—” she stammered, wishing a curse upon Cat and the blasted hat. Just when she’d been so close to having her husband make love to her. Now look!

“But that’s the trouble with a dare, love,” he said, looking positively smug now, the wretch. “It has to be something you wouldn’t normally do. Something that might put you in a, er, compromising situation.”

Oh, he was enjoying this far too much, the devil. Gathering her courage, Grace glared at him. “Very well then. Take your clothes off. All of them,” she commanded.

There was a moment of stunned silence which rather pleased her. That would teach him. Except it didn’t last.

“As my lady desires.”

Oh. Fiddlesticks. He was doing it. Now what?

Though, she could not regret anything as he rose and kicked off his trousers and small clothes. He had turned away from her, so she got a marvellous view of his muscular back, lean hips, and a perfect, splendidly taut bottom. Not to mention the long, long legs, strong thighs, and… then he turned around and all comprehensive thought fled.

“You are—” she began but could not find words to describe him. Instead, she got to her knees at the edge of the bed. “Kiss me.”

“You’re getting the hang of this,” he remarked, before wrapping his arms about her and doing as she asked. Grace let herself explore him, caressing him with more boldness than she’d ever dared before. Her questing hands moved over his big shoulders, down his arms, and her insides quickened at the flex of muscle beneath her fingers. She moved back to his neck, the soft tendrils of his hair warm against her skin before she followed the path of his spine, all the way to that taut backside. He made a sound of approval, deep in his throat, and pressed closer to her, his arousal hard and insistent between them as she kneaded his buttocks. She broke the kiss, too impatient to be shy now, dare be damned.

“Take this dress off me. Now!”

“Good heavens. Now I see where Betty gets it from: her mother is a tyrant too,” he said, laughing as she cursed, nearly falling on her face on the bed as she tried to turn around on her knees and her skirts got in the way. “Stand up, love. Let me get to you.”

Somehow, she stood without tripping on her own petticoats. She simmered with impatience as he tugged and unbuttoned, until nothing but her shift and stockings remained. Grace reached for the hem and tugged the shift off over her head, casting it aside. She turned around, prepared to tackle him to the ground if needs be. Much to her frustration, he held her back.

“No,” he rasped, his voice a full octave lower than usual. “Let me look.”

Grace paused, suddenly self-conscious as she remembered the differences between this body and how it had looked before Betty. She was still plump, the recent pregnancy having changed her, and she looked up at Sterling, afraid he might be disappointed in those changes. It only took one look at his expression to tell her she was being a fool. His gaze had turned hot, predatory, and possessive, and the knowledge of how much he wanted her shot through her veins like brandy and fire.

“Grace. Grace, I want you.” He moved to reach for her, but she remembered her dare and how he’d teased her. Well, two could play at that game.

“No,” she said, and he dropped his hand at once, his gaze flying to hers. “Get on the bed.”

He relaxed as he realised this was just a part of the game they’d been playing, and obeyed her without a word, though that wicked look still glinted in his eyes, waiting to be set free.

Grace bent to untie her garters, aware of his heated gaze upon her as she rolled down first one stocking, then the other. Carefully, she approached the bed, like she approached something dangerous that might bite if she didn’t pay attention. Not that it was difficult to pay attention to him. He was a riveting sight, naked and aroused, waiting for her. But, dare or no dare, she suspected his patience would only last so long. He had been waiting a very long time, after all. Still, she did not wish for it to be said she had not completed her dare, though she was never, ever going to reveal what exactly she’d done to fulfil it.

She stood beside the bed, gazing down at him, and reached out a hand. Her fingers trailed through the hair on his chest, tracing a circle around the dark, flat disc of his nipple, intrigued by the way it grew tight and puckered into a little bud without her even touching it. She did the same on the other side, aware of how his breathing changed, how his body grew tight, the muscles bunching and shifting. Grace met his eyes, aware that his patience was at its limit, and enjoying the fact, waiting for the moment he snapped with anticipation.

His hot gaze fell to her mouth as she licked her lips, and then carried on with her lazy exploration. She followed the trail of hair down his belly to the nest of dark hair where his arousal jutted insistently, twitching, and jerking with eager excitement as her fingers grew closer.

“Grace,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp of sound. She turned to look at him, to find his gaze half-lidded. “Please.”