Page 158 of The Boxing Baroness

“So,” she said. “A small wedding?”

“Unless you want to wait until the end of my mourning period?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good. Or, again, I would have employed the sack and chains to convince you. A small wedding, soon. And then afterward a long tour of the Continent so I can have you to myself.”

“You mean a tour tour?”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “If we take a caravan, it will only be one. And we will have a coachman. And a chef. And perhaps a few well-armed guards, and—”

Marianne laughed. “My, what a lot of maintenance a duke requires.”

His eyes darkened and the hungry look on his face stole her breath away. “Oh, darling, you have no idea of the sort of maintenance I’ll need from you. Starting tonight, I think.”

Several long, strenuous hours later in a small house on Brune Street . . .

Marianne heaved a gusty sigh of contentment.

Sin emerged from beneath the blanket and smiled down at her. “I could get accustomed to the sound of that.”

“Mmmm,” she murmured. “So could I.” One eye popped open and her hand slid down his torso, coming to rest on the only part of him that was truly awake at three o’clock in the morning. “What’s this?”

“It’s a betrothal gift, sweetheart.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Another one? Impressive. What a generous husband I will have.”

“Hmm, well, it might not be as impressive as the last three,” he warned her.

She chuckled and placed him at the entrance to her body.

Sin sheathed himself in one long thrust and they both groaned. As late as it was, and as exhausted as they both were, they held each other’s gaze as he moved inside her.

He took her slowly, giving her every inch with each thrust. They’d made love three times that night already, but he was afraid to let her go. Afraid he’d wake up in his bed alone with only the memory of her.

As if sensing his need, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him tighter. “I love you, St. John Powell—both man and duke.” She ran her strong hands up his flanks, her eyes saying what mere words weren’t enough to express.

He thrust twice more, deeply, before hilting himself. “My Marianne,” he murmured as his bliss claimed him.

* * *

Sin awoke with a jerk, a familiar and precious body trapped beneath him, strong hands caressing his back and bottom.

He raised himself up onto his elbows and smiled down at her. “I fell asleep,” he said foolishly.

“I know. I took advantage while you were defenseless.” She dug her fingers into the dense muscles of his buttocks.

He groaned. “Feel free to continue.” He shifted off her and to the side, so that only his leg and arm were weighing on her.

She continued to stroke and massage with her magical hands. “Sin?”

“Hmm.” He lowered his mouth and sucked one of her pert nipples between his lips.

She groaned. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

He took her nipple between his teeth and tugged.

“Sin. Quit trying to distract me.”