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21
“I’m starving. Aren’t you the least bit hungry?” Leo’s fingers toyed with the spray of golden curls falling over her shoulders. “You realize, Georgie, if I become weak with hunger, I won’t be able to perform to your specifications. You might have to help me. Do a bit more of the work.”
“I don’t think you’d mind.” Her fingers stretched over the taut muscles of his stomach, reaching down until her fingers circled the length of him. “Cock. Such a funny name.”
“You find mycockamusing?”
“No. I take it very seriously.” Her heart fluttered madly about as she took in the big, naked male sprawled across her very feminine bed, a sheet barely covering his hips. Leo’s dark hair was messy, falling over his cheeks and ears in waves. A brush of dark hair covered his jaw. He was grinning at her, the tiny dimple in his cheek making an appearance. He was deliciously scruffy and wholly disreputable. And entirely hers.
Another flip of her heart.
“My cook makes an excellent roasted chicken. I suppose the least I can do for your valiant efforts is feed you.”
“What about a bit of potato?” The blue eyes roamed over her. “Will you feed it to me?”
Georgina leaned forward so he could get a good look at her breasts, hidden by the sheet. “I will grant you a bit of potato.” Her tone grew husky. “But you will have to do more to please me if you want a slice of bread or some butter.”
“I crossed an ocean for you, Georgie.” He tugged at the sheet. “I expect some butter. And possibly something more.” His eyes focused on the nipple of her left breast before tweaking the bud between his fingers.
Leohadcrossed an ocean for her, something that she knew terrified him. He’d given her Beechwood Court. A never-ending stream of funds. Made sure she had her favorite bourbon. All without telling her. When it came to emotions and his own heart, Leo had trouble being direct. He might never say the words, but Leo would show her, in dozens of ways, that he loved her.
“I love you.” She leaned over, cupping his face with one hand. “And I know you love me in return.”
He sucked in a lungful of air and looked away. “I do, Georgie.” His voice broke. “You’re my person.”
Georgina had no idea what that meant, but she pressed a kiss to his lips anyway.
“I can still see you the night Masterson first brought you to Elysium. You wore a powder blue gown with an indecent neckline. The lace and beads around the edges made you sparkle and shine like the brightest of stars.” He turned back to her. “Contrary to what you might think, Georgina, I do not spend an inordinate amount of time teaching women who enter Elysium how to gamble because I’d rather they lose.” Taking her hand, he said, “Did I ever tell you about Tony’s mother?”
Georgina was taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. “No. I know she died tragically.”
“Fell to her death after discovering her husband’s affair with her lady’s maid. My mother. And the existence of a bastard son. Me. Her own son’s playmate and best friend.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Leo. Surely you know that.”
He shrugged. “I do. I blamed my father for a long time, wishing he hadn’t claimed me. It guaranteed everyone knew of my origins. And even when they didn’t, once finding out, I was tossed aside. Her name was Imogene, if you must know. I was fifteen and thought I loved her.” He pulled her close. “Not anything like you, of course. She spoke with a lovely musical quality which didn’t remind one of a goose.”
She nipped at the skin of his shoulder. “Now you are surrounded by the honking of geese.”
“After Imogene, I made sure everyone knew I was born on the wrong side of the blanket. I took great pains in becoming a bigger rogue than my father. Took the same vows as Tony to end the Barrington line, united as brothers in our hatred for a man we both blamed for ruining our lives with his own selfishness.”
“But Marcus claimed you.”
“And I hated him for it. I was forever torn in two between my father and my loyalty to Tony. A miserable existence, made worse by my own guilt and a girl who rejected me when I was fifteen.”
“You’ve given this an enormous amount of thought,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “I had quite a bit of time on my hands aboard that bloody ship when I wasn’t puking into a bucket. Enough time to examine my faults, of which, thankfully, there are few.” His hand glided over her stomach. “Didn’t you promise to feed me chicken?”
“I did,” she breathed as his fingers slid between her thighs.
“Wonderful. I’d like you to do so while naked.”
