The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(87)
He blinked. “I see that.”
“And I’m going to name ’er Rose—after Miss Rosie ’ere who brought ’er into the world,” Sally added.
Andrew’s gaze went to Rosie. His brows inched upward.
“I helped a little.” Modestly, Rosie looked down at her hands.
Which was a mistake.
She saw the blood—and other bodily secretions—covering her skin. Her stomach lurched as she also became aware of the slime oozing between her fingers and the smells...
A buffle-headed feeling stole over her, and the floor rushed up.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Andrew murmured.
“Mmm grmph.”
Smiling at Primrose’s grumbled reply, he swept her golden tresses back and kissed her shoulder. They were in her bed, her back nestled against his front, the same position they’d fallen asleep in. He loved sleeping with her. His body craved the closeness of hers during slumber, and if she moved during the night, even asleep, he pulled her back into his arms. He found it a singular joy to wake up entangled with her.
He traced a finger down her arm, and her sleepy shiver hit him straight in the groin. He was already hard, his morning cockstand nestled between the plush curves of her derriere. He hadn’t made love to her last night; they’d arrived back at her house just before dawn, both of them exhausted. After a quick wash, they’d gone straight to bed.
Although he hadn’t slept more than a few hours, he felt invigorated. A burden had eased. True, he still had Todd to deal with—and, make no mistake, he would have his retribution—but all three wenches had delivered their babes safely last night.
And Primrose had played an unexpected role in that.
While he’d always known that she was brave and strong, her actions last night had surpassed even his expectations. She’d allowed her brightness and natural warmth to shine. Sally couldn’t stop singing her praises, and even Fanny expressed grudging respect.
Primrose had awed him. And she’d made him laugh.
He’d caught her when she swooned. The episode hadn’t lasted more than a minute, but her chagrin had been bloody adorable. He’d teased her for fainting after the fact.
Her pout had been priceless.
Even more precious was the fact that she’d gone to the Nursery House because she’d wanted to help him. She’d made it clear that she wanted him to share his mind, body, and spirit with her. Was it possible that this was more than an affair to her—that she might one day return his feelings?
The thought filled him with hope.
It also made him randier than the devil.
Beneath the coverlet, he slid his hand over her firm breast, the tip stiffening at his touch. As he stroked her nipple, she sighed, her bottom wriggling against his cock. With his top leg, he pulled back hers, trapping it and shifting them both so that he was on his back and she lying half on his chest. With one hand, he played with her tits while the other skimmed over her silken rib cage and soft belly to her cunny.
“Christ, you’re dripping,” he rasped against her ear. “I love how wet you get for me.”
“It feels so good when you touch me.” Her newly awakened voice was sultry.
He adored her honesty and the fact that she responded so readily to him. He didn’t mind working for her pleasure—indeed, he enjoyed it—but, God’s teeth, he counted it a blessing that he could make his lover spend multiple times and with ease. He’d never met another woman whose appetites so perfectly matched his own. He sucked her earlobe while he diddled her pearl. Her hips moved to the rhythm of his fingers, her thighs squeezing his hand as she came.
He eased from beneath her, rolling onto his side so that he could look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her jade-colored eyes drowsy and sated.
“You’re so bloody beautiful,” he said reverently.
He brought his fingers, still wet from her climax, to her breasts and painted the tips with her own dew. His nostrils flared at his handiwork: her nipples glistened like honey-glazed berries. He bent his head, arousal pounding in his veins as he licked her taste from her tits. Soon, he craved more, wanted to drink from the source. He kissed his way downward—and was surprised when her fingers slid into his hair, stopping him.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he said.
“I want to do something different.” Her cheeks were pink, her eyes determined.
He quirked a brow. “You have complaints about how I make love to you?”
“You know I don’t. But I want to try something. Will you let me?”
He wondered what was going on in that gorgeous head of hers, and a hot flame of anticipation licked his gut. “Be my guest.”
“Then will you please lie back against the pillows?”
He acquiesced, tucking his hands behind his head. “How’s that?”
“Splendid.” Her feminine excitement made his balls throb. “Keep your hands right there.”
She clambered gracefully atop him, her damp cunny nestling against his rock-hard abdomen. He stifled a groan, his cock prodding her arse like a poker. She leaned in to kiss him, tangling her tongue sweetly with his, and then peppering kisses over his jaw. She licked his earlobe, gnawing delicately at the tendon of his neck.
He realized that she was making love to him the way he’d made love to her. Up until now, Primrose had seemed content to let him direct their lovemaking, and although he didn’t quite understand her sudden desire to take charge, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.