smothered a giggle.
“Oh, of course,” Isabel said gravely, schooling her features.
“The poor creature is mad for Bartley. But then I do believe chickens have pea-sized brains.”
“Gray!” she cried, laughing.
“Apparently he cannot go into his rear garden any longer. The moment he steps outside, she begins screeching for him.” Gray leapt to his feet in a fluidly graceful motion, and held out his arms. “She runs at him with her wings spread in joy, and flies into her lover’s arms.”
Both she and her abigail laughed aloud.
“You are making that up!”
“I am not. While I do admit to having a wild imagination,” he said, coming toward her, “even I could not imagine any female mad for Bartley, poultry or otherwise.”
Gray smiled at her maid. “I can take over from here.” Her abigail curtsied, and left.
Isabel’s smile faded as he came up behind her, and began to work on the tiny row of cloth-covered buttons that ran up her spine. She held her breath, trying not to smell him. “We were doing so well, Gray,” she complained. “For a moment, I felt the friendship we had before. Why ruin it by reminding me of this damned attraction?”
His fingertips drifted over her chemise-covered upper back. “Goose flesh. You have no notion of how difficult it is for a man to stand this close to a woman he desires, to feel that desire returned, and then not act upon it.”
“Friends,” she insisted, secretly amazed at the steadiness of her voice. “That is the only way to make this marriage work.”
“I can be your friend, as well as your lover.” His hot, open mouth pressed against the top of her shoulder.
“And what will become of us when we are no longer lovers?”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Gray set his chin on her shoulder and stared at their reflection. He was so much taller than she was. He had to hunch over her, surrounding her completely.
“What do you want me to say, Isabel? That we will always be lovers?”
His hands pushed down her loose bodice and cupped her breasts, kneading gently, his hips swirling against her derriere. The fierce evidence of his desire was unmistakable, and heat spread instantly across her skin. She was primed for sex, her body repeatedly aroused by his seductions, and her eyes slid closed on a low moan.
“Look at us,” he urged. “Open your eyes. See how flushed we are, how needy.” Strong, nimble fingers tugged at her nipples. “I know I could make you come like this, still fully clothed. Would you like to come, Isabel?” He licked her sweat misted skin. “Of course, you would.”
Afraid to see herself in his arms, she shook her head.
Gray shifted, his hips aligning so he could rub his cock against her, up and down, the hard length making her sob in near desperation. He worked her nipples, elongating them, pulling and twisting until she cried out in pleasure. She felt every motion of his fingers as if they were between her legs, her cunt creamy and aching for him.
“I don’t know if we will always be lovers.” His gruff voice skittered across her skin, making her nipples tighten further. He groaned. “But I can tell you that if my lust for you were half as much as it is now, I would still want you desperately.”
She knew he would still want someone else, too. Even when he’d been in love, he had not been steadfast. Despite this knowledge, her back arched, thrusting her breasts into his hands and her buttocks against his bone-hard erection. Gray growled—a deep, throaty warning. “Stay home with me.”
The temptation to do so was nearly overwhelming. She wanted to push him to floor, sink her body onto his cock, and ride out this agony.
“I never once wanted you,” she moaned, undulating in his embrace, every part of her straining. She was almost mad with wanting him, ready to throw aside everything she held dear to take him. But some of her reasoning would not be denied. “Not once did I ever look at you, and think about sharing your bed.”
Now she
“Oh, of course,” Isabel said gravely, schooling her features.
“The poor creature is mad for Bartley. But then I do believe chickens have pea-sized brains.”
“Gray!” she cried, laughing.
“Apparently he cannot go into his rear garden any longer. The moment he steps outside, she begins screeching for him.” Gray leapt to his feet in a fluidly graceful motion, and held out his arms. “She runs at him with her wings spread in joy, and flies into her lover’s arms.”
Both she and her abigail laughed aloud.
“You are making that up!”
“I am not. While I do admit to having a wild imagination,” he said, coming toward her, “even I could not imagine any female mad for Bartley, poultry or otherwise.”
Gray smiled at her maid. “I can take over from here.” Her abigail curtsied, and left.
Isabel’s smile faded as he came up behind her, and began to work on the tiny row of cloth-covered buttons that ran up her spine. She held her breath, trying not to smell him. “We were doing so well, Gray,” she complained. “For a moment, I felt the friendship we had before. Why ruin it by reminding me of this damned attraction?”
His fingertips drifted over her chemise-covered upper back. “Goose flesh. You have no notion of how difficult it is for a man to stand this close to a woman he desires, to feel that desire returned, and then not act upon it.”
“Friends,” she insisted, secretly amazed at the steadiness of her voice. “That is the only way to make this marriage work.”
“I can be your friend, as well as your lover.” His hot, open mouth pressed against the top of her shoulder.
“And what will become of us when we are no longer lovers?”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Gray set his chin on her shoulder and stared at their reflection. He was so much taller than she was. He had to hunch over her, surrounding her completely.
“What do you want me to say, Isabel? That we will always be lovers?”
His hands pushed down her loose bodice and cupped her breasts, kneading gently, his hips swirling against her derriere. The fierce evidence of his desire was unmistakable, and heat spread instantly across her skin. She was primed for sex, her body repeatedly aroused by his seductions, and her eyes slid closed on a low moan.
“Look at us,” he urged. “Open your eyes. See how flushed we are, how needy.” Strong, nimble fingers tugged at her nipples. “I know I could make you come like this, still fully clothed. Would you like to come, Isabel?” He licked her sweat misted skin. “Of course, you would.”
Afraid to see herself in his arms, she shook her head.
Gray shifted, his hips aligning so he could rub his cock against her, up and down, the hard length making her sob in near desperation. He worked her nipples, elongating them, pulling and twisting until she cried out in pleasure. She felt every motion of his fingers as if they were between her legs, her cunt creamy and aching for him.
“I don’t know if we will always be lovers.” His gruff voice skittered across her skin, making her nipples tighten further. He groaned. “But I can tell you that if my lust for you were half as much as it is now, I would still want you desperately.”
She knew he would still want someone else, too. Even when he’d been in love, he had not been steadfast. Despite this knowledge, her back arched, thrusting her breasts into his hands and her buttocks against his bone-hard erection. Gray growled—a deep, throaty warning. “Stay home with me.”
The temptation to do so was nearly overwhelming. She wanted to push him to floor, sink her body onto his cock, and ride out this agony.
“I never once wanted you,” she moaned, undulating in his embrace, every part of her straining. She was almost mad with wanting him, ready to throw aside everything she held dear to take him. But some of her reasoning would not be denied. “Not once did I ever look at you, and think about sharing your bed.”
Now she
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