Page 101 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

She opened her mouth to protest, but I leaned down, silencing her with a kiss. Her lips met mine and she stilled.

I wanted her again, but she needed to rest

I pulled back regretfully and tucked her head against my chest. “You’re safe now. Close those pretty eyes and just be for a while.”

Six

Holly

Holy hell. What the hell just happened? Last night and multiple times this morning, Malcolm wrung multiple orgasms from me.

And to think I was just hoping for a hotel room somewhere. I’d not pictured being thoroughly fucked in the Duke of Lachlan’s magnificent four-poster bed.

And it was glorious. My body still buzzed with pleasure. I couldn’t think of the last time I felt this relaxed. After all that time in bed, we’d leisurely showered. Malcolm had been fascinated by my body, wet and slippery.

“I can’t stand the thought of putting those clothes back on,” I said, enjoying Malcolm toweling me off. He alternated, kissing my body part with the towel work.

“Don’t,” he said simply.

“I’m not walking around your castle wearing your bathrobe.”

“More’s the pity.” He chuckled. “I have a few things that might work.”

“Your clothes will never fit me.” I would feel like a child playing dress-up in Malcolm’s clothes.

“Have a little faith.” He dropped our towels and led me back into his bedroom. I was surprised how natural it was to walk around naked with him.

He pulled several shopping bags out of his wardrobe. “See what you think of these.”

I peered inside, then I raised my head. “I’m not wearing a corset and garter belt to breakfast.”

Malcolm already had on his briefs and was pulling his tee-shirt over his head. He grinned when his head popped through the neck hole. “Try the other bag.”

I pulled out a lavender cowl neck sweater and slim black pants. “The sweater is so soft!” I hugged it to me.

“It should be, it’s made from our own wool.”

“It’s cashmere?”

“Of course.” He sounded surprised.

And why not. He was a duke. I didn’t buy cashmere sweaters. I was still paying off my student loans and mom’s constant nursing home bills.

Still clutching it to my bare chest, I pulled out a lacey bra and panty set precisely the same color.

“You like this color, huh?” I set the sweater down to slip on the bra.

He came around to hook my bra. “I love this color. It goes well with your eyes.” He brushed my hair away from my neck, pressing his lips to my bare skin there. Honest to God, I swooned. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll have you bent over the couch, taking my cock. Meet me in the dining room when you’re ready.” He released me, but his lips brushed my ear. “And skip the panties.”

I closed my eyes, hoping to God that he opted for bending me over the couch. Then my stomach gurgled. Well damn, I guess food it was.

When I was alone in the room, I gulped a few breaths. I had to get a grip.

I was a professional woman. I had the same fucking degrees that Malcolm had. And I’d obtained them much earlier and under levels of stress he could never imagine.

Mom’s work as a nurse provided the only income for us and as her health started failing, she continued working. Luckily, I discovered early on that I was good at taking tests.

Ok, that’s not entirely true. I was great at test-taking. Good test-taking lead to IQ testing, which lead to me skipping multiple grades. I skipped high school altogether and entered a combined college and medical school program on a scholarship.

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