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She wrapped her arms around his back and traced the muscles she’d ogled before from the rounded tops of his shoulders to the firm globes of his arse. He was so hard. Everything about him was hard, including the part between her thighs.
He peered down at her. “I thought you were hungry?”
Her blush deepened. “Well, when it comes to you, I am voracious, it seems.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual, my love.”
With a laugh, he took her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. He could never get enough of her scent, he’d told her. Valentine had loved it so much that she’d had to have another batch of the special soap made and delivered from the apothecary.
His stomach chose that moment to give an obnoxious growl, and she laughed, poking him in the chest.
“What do you say we feed each other,” she suggested. “And then we can spend the rest of the day playing try-to-catch-the-naughty-spy. That way you won’t collapse when the dastardly and devious Kestrel puts you through your paces.”
A slow grin limned his lips. “I knew I married you for that superior intellect of yours.”
“Don’t you forget it, Duke.”
Her husband took her mouth in the sweetest of kisses, gentle but with enough bite to make her swoon. “Never, my brilliant, beautiful, wicked love.”
