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Ainsley gave another fruitless tug on the hopelessly tangled ribbons. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Or, you could just leave everything on.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m sure I could manage.”
“Don’t be silly. You’d likely get caught in the ribbons and strangle yourself.”
“Then over the head it is. Here, I’ll show you.”
He stood, and in one swift movement dragged his shirt over his head. “Now, doesn’t that look easy?”
Her tart reply died on her tongue. All she could do was stare at her husband, now clad only in breeches.
Firelight slid lovingly over his wide shoulders, making his skin glow like gold. His chest, broad and muscular, was dusted with black hair that narrowed down to his trim waist. Royal’s impressive physique was hard and utterly masculine, yet imbued with a grace that reminded her of ancient Greek statues. Not the ones of the gods, though, which were almost inhumanly beautiful. Royal was a warrior, lean and battle-scarred. Just looking at him made her heart pound with anticipation.
Especially when she saw the impressive erection tenting his snug-fitting breeches.
Obviously comfortable with his semi-naked, aroused state, her husband slowly raised his eyebrows in a silent dare.
Well.
Two could play at that game.
She bunched up her wrapper and dragged it over her head. There was quite a lot of it—yards, in fact—so it took a while. By the time she wrestled free, she was cursing under her breath while Royal was laughing.
“You needn’t be so smug. Men have it easy when it comes to getting dressed—or undressed.”
“You’ve never tied a cravat,” he said, coming to join her.
She went to work on yet another set of stupid laces at the top of her nightgown. Royal covered her hands.
“Leave it,” he said in a gruff tone.
“But you said—”
“I like the way you look in this, Ainsley.”
From the heavy-lidded gleam in his eyes—and the state of his breeches—he clearly did.
“I’m glad, because it wasfrightfullyexpensive,” she joked.
He played with the lace trimming on her bodice. “It was worth every shilling.”
Made of the finest mull, the fabric whispered over her body. Delicate as a butterfly’s wing, it barely concealed the dusk of her nipples or the dark nest of hair at the top of her thighs.
Royal cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples. Instantly, they pulled into stiff little points.
“I’m hoping you’ll wear this or something like it every night for the rest of our lives,” he said as he continued to play with her.
Ainsley bit her lip to hold back a moan. “I’ll do my best to comply, dear sir.”
He smiled and drew the fabric tight across her breasts. Her nipples proudly jutted out, begging for his touch.
When Royal leaned in to suck one into his mouth, Ainsley let her eyes drift shut. Pleasure rose in the dark. As he gave her a gentle nip, she moaned and grabbed his shoulders, relishing the feel of his naked skin under her fingertips. He clamped his hand around her waist, holding her steady as he lavished attention on her breasts through the gauzy fabric.
As he teased her into a sensual frenzy, Ainsley’s hands began to wander, tracing across his shoulders and down his brawny arms. His body radiated heat, the skin smooth over muscles dense with strength. She stroked her hands over his chest, playing with the coarse, masculine hair before following the trail down to the top of his breeches.
When her hand brushed against his erection, Royal growled and sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. Ainsley cried out and arched against him.
With a final nip that she felt deep in her core, Royal pulled away. Dazedly, she opened her eyes to see him stripping off his breeches. His linen smalls did nothing to obscure the large erection straining to break free of its confinement.
