Page 72 of The Duke Says I Do
“Before I had you from behind.”
A smile of astonishing lewdness curled her lips. “That’s the way animals mate.”
Arousal thundered through him, but he’d noticed her discomfort and felt like a brute. So no matter how overheated he became, she needed time to recover. Even if restraint was likely to incinerate him to embers. “Did you mind?”
That provocative expression intensified. “It was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. And I say that as a woman who has had the most exciting day of her life.”
He grimaced. “I’m trying to do the right thing, my darling. You’re not helping. I promised we’d make it into a bed.”
Her gaze softened at the endearment. “We almost made it last time.”
He wanted to stop talking about last time. Otherwise she’d end up under him again.
“You were taking down your hair.” Granville couldn’t believe that he was yet to see her naked. And hadn’t she expressed an interest in seeing his body, too?
She ran her fingers through the untidy mane. “You’ve since taken care of that.”
“Now it’s time to take off your dress.”
“You first.”
Startled, he stepped back. “What?”
Portia’s jaw set in a determined line. It was a touching reminder of the woman he’d rescued in the East End. “You’ve seen considerably more of me than I’ve seen of you. It doesn’t seem fair.”
He laughed with unfettered pleasure. “I love how direct you are.”
“Does that mean you agree?”
His hand already reached for his neckcloth, which a glance in the cheval mirror in the corner told him was in a woeful state after that unforgettable rogering. “I warn you, I’m nowhere near as beautiful as you are.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Folded arms plumped her breasts in a most intriguing way. Granville swallowed, reminding himself that he possessed some self-discipline.
He tugged the neckcloth free and dropped it to the carpet. He tried not to glance toward her discarded drawers. If he dwelled too long on the fact that she was bare beneath her gown, he’d be on her.
His shirt fell open, uncovering his body halfway down his chest. She’d seen him without his shirt before, so the greedy lick of her eyes on the vee of skin surprised him. By Jericho, it felt like she touched him with hot fingers, even if a couple of feet separated them.
“Now the coat.” Her husky tone betrayed sensual curiosity.
“You’re very imperious,” he said idly.
Another of those devastating, self-assured smiles. They were new today. Every time, they shot an arrow of fire straight to his balls. “You like it.”
Damn it, he did. He was putty in her hands. Well, putty, if the definition of putty included something as rock-hard as his dick.
Granville liked that she felt confident enough to give him orders. He liked that she kissed him when the urge struck. He liked that she found his never-ending desire for her as piquant as he did.
He tugged off his coat and threw it down beside his neckcloth. Hobbs would have a fit. Now Granville stood in front of Portia in shirtsleeves and the gray silk waistcoat with its exquisite embroidery.
“That’s pretty.” Portia pointed at him. “Take it off.”
He shot her a direct look. “Your turn.”
How he wanted her to remove her dress. He wanted it with the kind of urgency that kept a man awake all night. But when she crossed to sit on a chair near the fire, he recognized that she set out to torment him first.
She lifted her skirts. All the saliva evaporated from his mouth, as he wondered if she meant to display herself. But after a gleaming glance under her eyelashes, she positioned herself to show only her knees and two nicely curved calves in white stockings.
With deft hands, she untied the ribbons around her ankles that kept her slippers in place. She raised her skirts higher to reveal the pretty garters that held up her stockings. A few quick tugs to loosen them before she dropped each garter to the carpet. Then using her skirts to preserve her modesty, she perched her heel on the edge of the seat. Slowly she unrolled one stocking and laid it on the floor near her garters.
