Page 120 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

Footsteps crossed the floor.

"You disappeared." His voice was low. Close.

"I needed air."

"Liar." His hands settled on her shoulders, warm through the silk of her gown. "You're nervous."

"I'm not."

"Your pulse is racing." His thumb found the spot where her neck met her shoulder, pressed gently. "Right here. I can feel it."

Damn the man.

"Perhaps I'm nervous about having a husband who notices too much."

"Perhaps you should have married someone less observant."

"Perhaps I should have."

His lips brushed her ear. "Too late now."

She shivered despite herself.

His hands moved to the row of buttons down her spine. "How many of these bloody things are there?"

"About a hundred."

"Of course there are." He started working them free, his fingers clumsy against the tiny fastenings. "This is a test, isn't it? The first trial of marriage."

"If you can't manage buttons, how will you manage anything else?"

"I'll manage you just fine." He freed another button, his knuckles brushing bare skin. "I've had practice."

"Have you? I don't recall you managing me. I recall managing you."

His hands stilled. She felt his breath against her neck, hot and deliberate.

"Is that how you remember it?"

"Vividly."

"Interesting." Another button. Another brush of skin. "Because I remember you begging."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "I did not beg."

"You did." His voice hitched higher. "'Please, Matthew. More, Matthew. Don't stop, Matthew.'"

"That's not begging. That's... instruction."

"Ah." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "My mistake."

The last button gave way. The dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

She turned to face him.

His eyes raked down her body: stays, shift, stockings. His jaw tightened.

"You're overdressed," he said.