Page 93 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled at him. “Are we going down to supper after this?” she asked, giving his chest a tentative stroke. James sucked in a breath to stave off his immediate reaction. He was suddenly devoutly glad that he had not been similarly cursed. Perhaps he had some small sympathy for Bevan after all. “Only, the hour is a little early for us to sleep, though it is pleasant to lie here together discussing our day together.” She tipped forward to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“I was not really intending for us to sleep,” he confessed.

“What, then?”

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her shoulder to her neck. “I thought we could practice building up my resistance to pleasure,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see...”

“I want you to do your best to render me entirely senseless again,” he admitted huskily.

“James!”

“But this time I’ll resist, by remembering to breathe.”

“But what if you forget?”

“Then you can remind me.”

James’s hands settled either side of her waist as he rolled her more firmly atop himself. She tried to pull back, no doubt to ask him if she was not too heavy, but his lips chased hers, unwilling to part.

“Stay where you are,” he begged when their kiss broke. “Just as you are.”

“Above you? Like this?” Gunnilde asked with surprise.

“Yes,” he breathed. “No. I want you to take off your shift.”

Gunnilde straightened up and pulled her shift up over her head, discarding it over the side of the bed. “Is this better?” she asked archly, covering her breasts with her hands. Well, the nipples at least. Her breasts were too large to be confined by her palms. The sight had his cock straining against his braies.

“Come back here,” he entreated. “I want to feel you in my arms again.”

Carefully, she lowered herself back on top of him, and he drew the blankets up around her at once, caressing her back. “It’s a shame to obscure the view,” he murmured, “but I should not want you to grow cold.”

“James, if I squash the breath out of you, you must tell me,” she fretted.

“Trust me, I’m a good deal stronger than you imagine,” he soothed her, his hands sliding forward to cup and fondle her heavy breasts. “Gods. Your breasts, Gunnilde.”

“Yes?”

“They are so wondrously abundant.”

“Hmmm.”

“You have no notion how they tortured me in the early days of our marriage!” he admitted raggedly as he plumped and made out their shape.

“Tortured?” She sounded startled.

“Aye, for every time you undressed for bed, I could see their outline in your shift.”

“Ohhh,” she whimpered faintly as he pinched and rolled her nipples. “Did you wish to make free with them, as you do now?” she whispered.

“Gods, I could scarcely imagine such a state of affairs where I could be so fortunate. That I could be so privileged...” He shook his head. “I would ne’er have believed it possible.”

“What did you imagine, then?” she enquired breathlessly, pushing her breasts further into his hands. He made a noise of appreciation deep in his throat.

“You brushing them against me in the night,” he admitted hoarsely, glad it was dark. “And my spilling in my braies at the barest, featherlight touch...” He swallowed. “I could have, you know.”

“James,” she whispered. “Would you like to touch me somewhere else?” The words hung for a moment between them as James sucked in his breath.