loose. His hands clamped on her waist, spinning her around to face him with so much haste, she nearly lost her balance.
Perhaps it was because he was making her knees turn into aspic?
She swayed, her hands planting on his broad shoulders for purchase, holding herself upright. He was so handsome, towering over her with his brooding masculine beauty, his wavy, dark hair falling rakishly over his brow, his bright-blue eyes searing her where she stood.
He was still wearing all his wedding finery. Coat, waistcoat, shirt, neck cloth tied neatly around his throat. He was the picture of a fine English gentleman. So gorgeous, he made her ache.
He grasped her corset then, unhooking her before tossing the undergarment to the floor. Make that only her chemise, drawers, and stockings.
Oh dear.
“Your underpinnings are damp, my lady,” he said, his voice low.
Pure, unadulterated seduction.
“Yours are wet as well,” she ventured, finding her tongue and her own bravery at last. “Mayhap I should help you to divest yourself of your soaked garments.”
He shook his head, his gaze lowering to her lips. “I do not know about that. A lady aiding her servant? It is not done. As your loyal lady’s maid, I cannot allow you to assist me. To do so would be wrong.”
His words heightened her awareness. Suddenly, the allure of the game he was playing with her became clear. There was something delightfully exciting about pretending, about playing roles. She had already been wild for him, but pretending he was her servant and that what they were doing was wicked and forbidden, made her want him so much more.
Indeed, she was desperate for him.
“I insist,” she said. “It is not fair for you to be soaked to the bone. You must remove some of your layers. Let me aid you.”
He inclined his head, the look he gave her enough to set her drawers aflame. And herself. And the entire chamber. It would all be engulfed in fire, burning down, all around them, before this was over.
“Assist me as you will, my lady,” he told her.
He did not need to offer the invitation twice. Her hands took control of her mind, doing all the work for her, investigating his broad shoulders and hard chest before finding the twain ends of his coat and pushing them down. Next, her fingers discovered the buttons of his waistcoat.
She plucked each one free.
His shirt? Gone.
His trousers were next. But his chest briefly distracted her. Jo had never witnessed a naked masculine chest. And Decker’s? It was positively sinful.
“Touch me, Josie,” he rasped, his voice low. “I want your hands upon me. I have spent the last weeks dreaming of nothing else.”
He had been dreaming of her?
Eagerness made her hands tremble as she did as he asked. His abdomen first. A tentative caress up those ridges of muscle, over the fine trail of dark hair that led to the waistband of his trousers. His skin was warm and damp and softer than she had imagined. He inhaled sharply as she glided her hands higher, to the delineations of his chest.
Curiosity sent her fingertips over the flat discs of his nipples, so unlike her own. A groan rumbled deep in his throat, and she absorbed the vibration. Jo stopped, her hands still on him.
His hands covered hers then, guiding her higher, over the protrusion of his clavicle, to his shoulders. How wonderful he felt, deliciously masculine and all hers. She had dreamt of this too, of being alone with him, of being free to touch and be touched. Of no longer dithering about and observing propriety.
The last three weeks of waiting had been utter torture. Julian had watched her like a thief he suspected planned upon filching the familiar silver. When she had not been within his sight, a servant had attended her. Not even the birth of her nephew had diminished his brotherly determination to make certain she made it to her wedding day without a further hint of scandal.
“If you keep looking at me that way, I am going to ravish you here and now,” Decker said suddenly.
Yes, please.
“You do not know what you are asking for, darling,” he said, his eyes darkening.
Oh dear. Had she said that aloud? It would seem she had.
“Why do we need to wait?” she dared to ask next.
After all, they were married now. There was no more sneaking about. Nothing that happened between them from this moment forward was wrong.
“I intended to woo you.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I