‘Why not?’ Penelope demanded. ‘Jules has very good ideas.’
‘Too true,’ Saint said blandly. ‘Too true.’ ‘I will tell you later, Michael, exactly what
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I’m thinking,’ Jules said, trying to frown him down.
‘Or you could simply show me,’ Saint said. ‘But Jules,’ Penelope protested, ‘why don’t you tell him now? This does concern you.’
Thomas broke into merry laughter. He leaned over and clasped his wife’s slender hand. ‘She can’t, love, it would be too … embarrassing.’
‘Oh! You mean that … You are a wretched tease, Thomas DuPres!’
‘Tease? Really, Pen, you know better than that!’
Saint didn’t believe that he would ever tire of watching his wife brush her hair. She was wearing the dark blue velvet dressing gown he’d given her at Christmas, and her thick beautiful hair rippled down her back. He was lying on the bed, his head pillowed on his arms. He said idly, ‘I explained things to Thomas, just as you asked.’
Jules looked at him in the mirror, a grin on her face. ‘And what did my brother have to say?’
‘Well, he looked very surprised, really. Astonished, I suppose you could say. As I recall, he said, ‘Saint, are you certain that is dAl?
how it’s done? I thought the ear Jules threw her hairbrush at him.
He let it bounce off his chest, then tossed it back to her. ‘To be serious about it, I simply asked him how things were going with his bride. He looked greatly pleased. Of course, sweetheart_, two gentlemen wouldn’t discuss techniques or exact approaches, not like you ladies appear to do.’
Jules rose from her chair and slipped off her dressing gown. She enjoyed the feel of it and stood quietly a moment, stroking her hand over the velvet.
‘Why don’t you consider putting me around you? I imagine I’m much warmer than that dressing gown.’
Jules looked uncertain, then, as her eyes began to twinkle, nodded. ‘Hairy velvet. It’s certainly a thought.’
‘Come here, wench,’ he said, pulling back the covers.
She felt herself grow warm at the sight of him. ‘Have you never worn a nightshirt?’ she asked, standing over him, her gaze going slowly down his body.
Just those few times when I was afraid I would ravish you if I didn’t.
‘No,’ he said, his voice growing thick as her eyes rested on his groin.
‘You are so beautiful, Michael3’ she said,
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and slipped into bed beside him. ‘And much warmer than my dressing gown.’
Saint did his best to slow her down, but it was impossible. She wanted him, and quickly. It was the first time they’d made love since he’d gotten his vision back, and he thought he would yell with pleasure as he watched her face at the moment of her climax.
Then he was deep inside her, thrusting frantically, beyond himself. He heard her moan softly when his seed burst from his body into her, and he knew that she was filled with him and that she was happy to be so. He pulled her onto her side, stroking his large hands down her back. ‘You are perfect,’ he said, kissing her temple. ‘And I love you, Jules. With all my heart.’
She raised her face to look at him, and he said softly, ‘Don’t cry, love.’
She felt his fingertip wipe away the single tear that coursed down her cheek. ‘I’m not,’ she sniffed. ‘I was just thinking that perhaps I didn’t hear exactly what you said.’
He squeezed her, feeling himself growing hard within her again. ‘Woman, you heard me right, and you know it. As you can feel, my body agrees with me. Will you rush me this time, Jules? Or will you let a simple man give you everything he can, and very slowly?’
Jules felt dazzling sensations, and her
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muscles convulsed, making him moan. 41 don’t know, Michael,’ she said. She came on top of him, and he helped her straddle him. He was very deep inside her. His large hands covered her breasts, and she arched her back, her hair streaming over her shoulders and over his hands. When his fingers stroked downward to find her, she gasped. ‘I don’t think I can, Michael.’