Page 54 of The Mister I Married

She was right, though. Without ‘fornication’ there could be no family, and he was not too proud to admit, to himself at least, that he was eager to have her again. He only wished he could be sure she felt the same.

“Yes, I suppose we must,” he said with far more calm than he felt.

“Right.”

And with a resolved nod, Emmy opened the door and stepped into her bedchamber. Alex followed her inside, his heart beating faster as he shut the door behind him.

The room was comfortably warm and softly lit, with only a small fire in the hearth and a single candelabra burning on the dressing table. The bed beckoned, its emerald silk coverlet calling to mind images of last night, of Emmy’s nakedness, her dark hair framing her shoulders, stark against her pale skin.

He swallowed and turned his back on the bed, an act of self-defense. With unsteady hands, he removed his jacket and draped it over the chair at the escritoire. He moved on to his waistcoat next, the silence in the room beginning to grate, which was an unusual sensation for him. He was not one of those men who felt compelled to fill a silence.

Not usually, at any rate.

“The fish was excellent this evening, wasn’t it?” he said without turning around. He shed his waistcoat and laid it on top of his jacket.

Emmy’s soft hum of agreement whispered up his spine as he began unknotting his cravat.

“The sauce was perfectly seasoned.” He tossed his cravat onto the escritoire.

“Indeed.”

“And the trifle was almost too decadent, I think,” he rambled on, turning to face her as he worked at his cufflinks. “Mrs. Hatton must have—”

His gaze fell on his wife, surprise cutting his words short.

Emmy was motionless, standing in the middle of the room with her hands clasped at her front, watching him.

“I’ve never seen a man undress himself before,” she said, her cheeks rosy. “Do keep going.”

The words were slightly out of breath, as if she’d just sprinted up a flight of stairs.

It dawned on him then that his wife was aroused—aroused by the sight of him disrobing before her, and the realization in turn aroused him.

His pulse kicked up beneath the weight of Emmy’s stare, her gaze tracking his movements as he set his cufflinks on the escritoire beside his cravat. He was by no means a voyeur, but he liked his wife’s eyes on him. He liked it quite a lot.

Reaching for his shirt, he watched her face as he tugged the linen free from his waistband, enjoying the way her eyes darkened with interest. With lust. The need to touch her overwhelmed him, hastening his movements, and he swept his shirt over his head then tossed it onto the chair with little care for wrinkles. The rest of his clothing followed swiftly behind, littering the rug, and he stepped toward her, stark naked, his arousal obvious and almost painfully acute.

“Your turn,” he said softly, his words belying the urgency coursing through his veins, imploring him to sweep her up and toss her onto the bed.

“In a moment,” Emmy murmured, her gaze flitting over him like a teasing caress, and his cock throbbed with approval. “I want to look at you.”

And look she did, those gray eyes taking him in, looking their fill, and Alex might have felt self-conscious if not for the obvious gleam of admiration in her gaze.

“You are a comely man, Alex,” she said, her eyes meeting his, teasing yet sincere.

“Comely?” The description made him smile.

She nodded. “In an exceedingly masculine way, of course.”

“Thank you.” He bowed his head, surprisingly at ease receiving a compliment without a stitch of clothing on. “Have you finished with your inspection, then, wife?”

She cocked her head to one side as if considering the question, and said, “Yes, I suppose so. Though I must admit, I rather like having the upper hand.”

“I rather thought you would.”

She touched him then, her palms skimming across his chest and down his abdomen, her gaze on his, unwavering and unashamed, even as her fingers grazed the tip of his cock.

He drew in a sharp breath, pleasure spiking, and his eyes fell closed. She stroked him, slowly pumping and squeezing his length, and the uncertainty of her strokes nearly drove him out of his mind.