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“You would want to?” she asked, faintly incredulous.

“Very much so,” he replied steadily.

Aimee huffed out her breath. The thought of standing there stripped naked while he rubbed lotion on her made her knees quake. “I would feel nervous of you seeing me like that. All over, I mean.” She pulled a face. “My form is … not ideal.”

He gave a dissenting growl. “I’ve seen you all over already, Aimee,” he reminded her. “And let me assure you, I took great pleasure in the sight.”

“Yes, but … not stood prone before you, letting your eye dwell overlong on me,” she burst out. “I’m not slender,” she muttered, dropping her gaze. “You may not have noticed so much before as you were in something of a hurry.”

He paused as though measuring his next words. “It seems I have been remiss,” he rumbled. “If I rushed before, then this time you must permit me to linger.”

“That’s not what I –”

“What if I promised to return the favor?”

Aimee gasped. “Really? You would allow me do the same for you?” He gave a brief but decisive nod, and she caught her breath. “Then, yes,” she vowed at once. “A thousand times, yes.”

Her turn would have to wait until another day, she realized moments later after his hands had slid under her drying sheet. For she would not have the strength to devote to the task after he had finished with her. The way he was spreading the lotion over her thighs, hips, and belly was making her feel weak. It was almost … worshipful. She blinked down at his bent head, feeling the unhurried way his big hands moved over her skin.

“Next time, you will let me do this without the sheet obstructing my view,” he said throatily. Next time? “Why don’t you straddle my thigh?” he suggested glancing up, and she wondered if he had felt the trembling in her legs. Aimee gulped and he patted his leg. It seemed he liked her sat astride him, she recalled dimly, as she swung her leg over his and seated herself. Which was curious as he seemed to steel himself as she settled over him. Was it because his seated position meant her face was now perilously close to his own, she wondered.

Carefully, she averted her eyes from the ruined side of his face. He breathed out. “That’s it, take your ease,” he murmured as his hands started moving again, swooping over her hips to squeeze her buttocks. Aimee felt her face grow hot. Clearly, her body remembered the feel of him between her thighs, and she grew short of breath at the feel of his hard muscle pressed against her.

Oh gods, she thought, biting her lip. She hoped she did not grow wet as she had before. He still wore his chausses, and likely they would show a wet patch. She bit her lip and suppressed the impulse to groan. You would almost think he was savoring her extra flesh, she thought in confusion. Certainly, he seemed to enjoy handling it, if his kneading fingers were anything to go by.

“Why do you say your form is not ideal?” he asked thickly as his fingers relaxed and tightened over her backside. When she could make no reply, his hands slid up from her bottom to her lower back, his thumbs caressing the slight dip of her waist. “Aimee? Answer me.” He sounded genuinely mystified.

Aimee’s answer stuck in her throat. She hardly wanted to point out her defects to him. Then again, he must already be well acquainted with them by now. “I’m not slight,” she said awkwardly. “I wish I were more delicately made.”

“Delicate?” he repeated with a derisive snort. “If you were, I would be scared to trust myself with you. A delicate woman would not be up to my weight.” Up to his weight? Aimee glanced at him dubiously. “It is true,” he insisted. “I would be scared of crushing you. Besides …” his words trailed off.

“Besides?” Aimee prompted him breathlessly, though it felt rather indecent talking to him while his hands roamed over her so freely.

“I like the feel of you,” he said with a shrug. “I always appreciated a voluptuous woman. Your body is perfect to my taste.”

Aimee wasn’t sure her mouth didn’t fall open. She was to his taste? She hesitated. “You are not just saying that?” she croaked. “To reassure me?”

“As you know,” he answered wryly. “I am far from considerate when it comes to my actions and my words. I just say what I think.”

Aimee took the opportunity to stare at his face as he was otherwise occupied with the lotion. As usual, she felt giddy being in such close proximity to the object of her affection. Would that slightly breathless feeling wear off eventually? When she got used to being around him? Would he even allow her to become accustomed to his presence in her life? Apparently, he truly liked her body. He thought she was perfect according to his tastes. Perfect.

His eyes fell to where her hands clutched the top of her sheet. “I need to do your front now,” he said pointedly.

She nodded, her throat dry. “You want me to remove the sheet?”

He lifted his gaze so it locked on hers. “Would you, Aimee?” he asked richly.

Oh gods, when he looked at her like that, she did not feel in the position to deny him anything. She nodded and started tugging at the knot. The sheet slid to the floor.

Lord Kentigern caught his breath. “Gods,” he groaned, his eyes on her breasts. “How can you not know you embody every womanly ideal?”

Aimee gazed at him dumbfounded, still perched on his leg. “Are you in earnest?” she managed to choke out as he poured more of the lotion into his palms.

His reply was to gently cup her breasts with something approaching reverence. “Deadly earnest,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Does this feel good?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a whimper as his slick thumbs passed over her nipples. “But it’s getting harder to sit up straight. I feel like I’m melting.”

His lips quirked up at the one corner. “Do you want to lie down, Aimee?” She nodded, and he scooped her up with the greatest of ease, carrying her over to the bed and laying her back down on her mattress.