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The realization sent a shiver of delight through her middle. She stood on tiptoe to run her fingers through his hair and found it just a little wet. He’d bathed for her as well.

“I love your hair,” she murmured.

He blinked. “You do?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s…” He frowned as if unable to think of what to say.

“And I love your throat.” She pressed a kiss right there, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath her lips. He wasn’t wearing a shirt beneath the banyan, and his chest was delightfully available.

“Would you, ah, like some wine?” he asked. His voice had deepened as she trailed kisses down the loose V of the banyan.

“No.”

“Ah.” He quickly stooped and picked her up in his arms. “Just as well, I suppose. I don’t want any, either.”

He took three giant strides and deposited her on his great bed. She sank a little, and then he made the bed dip more by setting his knee on the mattress.

She sat up and placed a restraining palm on his chest. “Take this off.”

His brows shot up.

“Please,” she said sweetly.

He huffed but rolled off the bed to discard the banyan. And there was his chest, as lovely as she remembered it. Broad and strong and hairy, but this time was better than the last time she’d glimpsed his chest—the night he’d brought home Puddles—because this time she could touch it as well.

And she intended to.

When he made to mount the bed again, she shook her head at him.

He paused. “No?”

She flicked her fingers imperiously at his lower anatomy. “The breeches as well, please.”

That made him scowl.

So she simply removed her wrap. Underneath she wore her chemise. She let her shoulder drop, and the sleeve slid down.

He stared hard at her half-revealed breast and hastily removed his breeches. He paused, his fingers at the waist of his smallclothes, to look at her.

She arched an eyebrow and slowly pulled the ribbon on the neckline of her chemise. The neck opened, fully revealing that one breast.

He inhaled and shucked his smallclothes, stockings, and shoes. Then he straightened, nude and gloriously engorged.

Helen swallowed, staring at that part of his anatomy. It was just as well that she hadn’t gotten a full view this afternoon, because he was larger than Lister—considerably larger. His penis stood proudly erect, magnificent veins vining about the shaft, the head gleaming and almost purple. Below, his balls were tight and heavy between muscled thighs.

She sighed.

He cleared his throat. “I believe it’s your turn.”

“Oh!” She’d quite forgot the game they’d been playing. She hastily knelt on the bed and drew her chemise over her head.

His gaze immediately dropped to her chest, and a wicked smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “There they are.”

She glanced down at herself. “Are you referring to my bosom?”

He strolled forward and placed a knee on the bed. “I am.”

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