Page 74 of Impassioned
“Sabrina?”
She looked up to see his eyes were now open, slitted, as he regarded her over the length of his torso. “Mmm?”
“Unless you want to arouse another, ah, interlude, you should perhaps go to sleep.”
She thought a second “interlude” sounded rather wonderful. But she was too distracted by what he’d said about sleep. “You’ll allow me to stay?”
His eyes opened more. “If you want to.”
That he’d invited her into his chamber had been surprising enough, but to extend that invitation to spending the entire night was more than she’d expected. Then again, all of this was more than she’d ever expected.
Emotion bloomed and filled her heart. She pressed herself against him, her hand on his chest. Rising slightly, she kissed him gently, her lips sliding briefly over his. “I want to.”
“Stay or have another go?” The look in his eyes was so hopeful and the smile teasing his lips so alluring that she had to swallow against the lump gathering in her throat. This was all too perfect.
She slid her hand up to his neck and gave him her sauciest grin. “Both.”
“Minx.” He pushed her to her back and kissed her, his hand skimming along her side.
Sleep, as it happened, was fleeting.
It was past midnight when Constantine arrived home the following evening, exhausted and frustrated, from Westminster. He instantly brightened as he saw his wife walking into the house.
Bounding from the coach with more energy than he’d possessed a moment before, he strode inside just as she was about to leave the foyer.
“Sabrina,” he called, halting her progress.
She turned, her eyes alight as her lips curved into a warm, welcoming smile that stirred his cock. “You’re just getting home?”
He nodded. “It was a very long day. Would you care to take madeira with me in my study?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
They walked together, their arms brushing, and Constantine could scarcely believe this was his marriage, his wife. “How was your evening?” he asked, looking askance at her aquamarine gown and thinking it made her eyes shimmer like the sea on a summer day.
“Quite pleasant, thank you, though I was rather tired.” She sent him a provocative glance, and any plan he had of leaving her alone tonight to let her rest evaporated.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go upstairs?”
She laughed softly as they reached his study. “You can’t mean in order to sleep.”
“Actually, I did.”
“Then you shouldn’t be removing my clothing with your gaze.”
Smiling, he shook his head as he crossed to the sideboard to pour the madeira. “How did you become so skilled at flirtation? I never would have imagined it when I met you.”
“I don’t know that I’m all that skilled. I look for ways to lighten the mood or to make you smile. I suppose that comes across as flirting.”
He turned and found that she’d taken a seat in one of the chairs near the hearth. Delivering her wineglass, he tapped his against it before sitting opposite her.
“You try to make me smile?”
“I resolved to do so when I came to town. But don’t give me credit for wanting to. My goal was to ease my nerves. If you smiled more, I hoped I could relax.”
He grimaced, thinking he was a terrible, self-centered beast. “That you were in a position of discomfort because of me fills me with a remorse I can’t adequately express.” He clutched the wineglass and took a sip, hoping to calm the sudden roiling inside him.
“You mustn’t take all the blame. Even if you’d been a cheerful sort, I likely would still have been afraid. It’s taken me this much time to even want to try to emerge from the shadows.” She looked down at her wine. “I don’t think I was ready before.”
