Night of Pleasure by Delilah Marvelle

to give herself a chance to explore what she was capable of as a wife, but a much larger part of her had seen what strong passions could do to a marriage. She refused to ruin him or herself.
    “Who painted all of the new additions in the room?” she finally asked.
    “I did,” he offered from behind, his low voice surprisingly close. Too close.
    She turned and stumbled toward him, realizing his boots were standing on the hem of her gown. “What—”
    His large hands jumped to her corseted waist as he stepped off the hem. “Forgive me.” Tightening his hold on the curve of her waist, he lowered his head to hers. “I was admiring your perfume. It’s…” He searched her face, his mouth softening. “How are you?”
    His large hands skimmed her waist as he heatedly lowered his gaze to her lips. He leaned in closer, the scent of freshly starched linen and his hair tonic piercing the air between them.
    She froze, fully aware that his arms were not only drawing her body against his own muscled frame but that his rugged face was hovering above her own face.
    His lips edged down toward hers. The scent of spiced ginger from his mouth now teased the remaining space between them.
    Heaven forbid he unleash what he was holding in and kiss her. She’d be pregnant in a day. She slapped both hands over her mouth, bumping his arms and kept her palms firmly and rigidly in place. So he had no access to her lips. At all.
    He stilled, the heat of his mouth grazing her forehead. “Are you trying to be adorable?” he rasped. “Or is this your way of telling me you’re not interested?”
    She felt faint against the heat of his breath fanning her face. Her hands trembled against her own mouth in an attempt to stay calm, her gaze staying trained on the brass buttons of his waistcoat. “We shouldn’t,” she managed through her hands.
    His broad chest rose and fell unevenly. “You don’t have to keep your mouth covered. I promise I won’t lunge.”
    A whooshing breath escaped her as she lowered her hands. She stepped away and almost staggered knowing she had avoided being kissed. Ending up pregnant wasn’t what she had in mind.
    He still lingered very close.
    She edged back. “Can you please move away?” She delicately half-motioned him toward the direction she wanted him to go. “You’re standing a bit too close for my liking.”
    He glared. “Why not ask me to leave the house while you’re at it?”
    She awkwardly stepped back to ensure there was more space between them. “Please don’t take that tone with me. You have no right to touch or kiss me.”
    “No right?” he echoed, angling toward her. “I’m pretty sure I just signed marriage contracts.”
    He would have to remind her of that. Of course, it wasn’t a church document.
    He shifted his shaven jaw and veered away toward the nearest chair. He set a hand onto the gilded back, observing her. “I wasn’t even going to kiss you.”
    He was such a liar. “What were you going to do?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    Oh, he knew.
    “I didn’t mean to stand on your dress,” he casually added.
    She set her chin. “Thank you for apologizing for your indecent behavior.”
    He pointed at her. “I wasn’t apologizing for trying to kiss you. I was apologizing for stepping on your dress.”
    He was such a rake. “I thought you said you weren’t trying to kiss me.”
    “I’m not a very good liar.”
    “No. You most certainly aren’t.” She turned and wandered closer to one of his paintings on the wall as a way of trying to distract herself from the conversation they were having. She paused and stared up at what appeared to be a family sitting in the shade of a battered oak tree by a smeared stream that lacked dimension. She inched closer to the gilded frame. One of the children appeared to have a third arm. She pinched her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. Who says she didn’t have a sense of humor? “Was there a reason you painted an additional