Page 114 of Scandalous

“Yes, my love?”

She opened sleepy, sated eyes. “You’re still wearing your clothing,” she accused. “I want you to take it off. All of it.”

Her words caused a strange sensation in his stomach. Was it possible he was nervous to disrobe before her? He’d never before felt a twinge of nervousness or embarrassment when it came to showing his body or bedding a woman. He’d exhibited himself in every possible position to more strangers than he cared to remember. How could he be shy, now?

“Martín.”

“As you wish.” His words were husky at the need he saw on her face. He began to unbutton his coat.

“Do it slowly.” She propped herself up against some cushions and made herself comfortable.

He slowed his movements to a crawl, removing first his jacket, then his waistcoat, and finally his neckcloth, tossing all three over the chair.

She raised her eyebrows when he stopped. “You are still wearing far too many clothes, Captain Bouchard.”

“I see I’ve created a monster.” He sat down and lifted his booted leg. “If you would have me naked, you must serve as my boot jack. Unless you want me to call Jenkins.”

She scrambled off the bed and then hesitated.

“You won’t be able to do it from over there.” He waved the tip of his boot beckoningly. “Come closer. Closer still,” he encouraged, until she stood beside his leather-clad ankle. “Bien. Now, straddle my leg.”

Her mouth fell open, and he couldn’t help laughing. “Perhaps we are moving too quickly,” he said, lowering his leg.

“No!” She lifted one foot over his leg, facing him, squirming at the odd position.

He shook his head with mock sadness. “Oh, Sarah. I despair of ever shedding these troublesome breeches. You must turn the other way.” He twirled his fingers in the air to illustrate.

“You mean turn my bottom to you?”

He nodded slowly. For a moment he did not think she would do it. But she took a deep breath and turned quicker than he would have thought possible.

Amusement, triumph, and other emotions better left unidentified surged through him at the sight of her rounded bottom. He raised his leg until the soft leather of his boot gently bumped her mound.

“Oh.” She gave a little hop.

Martín laughed. “Pardon, chérie.”

“If you insist on being odious, I will let you remove your own wretched boots,” she threatened, not bothering to turn around.

“Grip the boot with both hands, one under my heel, and then pull.” He raised his other boot and placed it on her surprisingly fleshy bottom. Martín did not believe he had ever seen a prettier picture. He gave a slight push.

“Oof.” She stumbled forward, dropping the boot to catch her balance on the side of the bed.

“Come, come,” he chided. “There are two of them, remember?”

The second boot came off without any struggle or commentary. She flung it to one side and leapt onto the bed, grabbing a large cushion and wrapping her arms around it, clasping it to her middle.

She noticed his measuring look and squinted back at him, aping his severe expression.

“You shan’t see any more of me until I see all of you.”

Martín resumed his disrobing, making the performance as dramatic as she seemed to want.

Her expression when he pulled off his smallclothes was comical.

She stared at his erection. “It’s just as I remembered it.”

Martín laughed. “What? Did you think I might have changed it for another?”