accustomed to their circumstances together. What the devil was he doing, having a civilized breakfast and poring over The Times when the woman he could not stop wanting was here, within reach?
Decker rose from his chair, stalked around the corner of the table to her. She watched with wide eyes.
“You are correct, darling.” He extended his hand. “I find myself famished, but not for breakfast.”
She settled her diminutive hand in his, and even the innocent-enough contact made his prick twitch. “What are you suggesting?”
“That we begin this morning again the proper way, as we should have done from the first.” He hauled her to her feet. “With you in my bed.”
Perhaps she ought not to have given in with such ease.
But as Decker kissed his way down her naked body, Jo was not sure she cared. Her earlier irritation with him had vanished like her gown and all the underpinnings beneath. His clever hands had made short work of all her trappings.
Of course, they had. Were he not a businessman, he would have made an excellent lady’s maid.
Except, no lady’s maid did what her husband was currently doing to her.
His hands were on her thighs now, coaxing her to open for him.
“Decker,” she whispered, shyness mingling with excitement and hunger. “What are you doing? You cannot possibly mean to—oh!”
When his mouth found the wildly sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, she forgot what she had been about to say.
He lifted his head, his bright-blue gaze meeting hers and stealing her breath. “I can. Relax, bijou. Let me do penance for being an oaf at the breakfast table.”
He had been an oaf. She ought to still be aggrieved with him, but maintaining her crossness became impossible when his tongue stroked over her. She gasped, her hips jerking, offering herself up to him, seeking more.
“Mmm,” he murmured into her sex as if he were feasting upon the most decadent dessert. “Perfection.”
And then, he sucked her into his mouth. And it certainly felt like perfection, what he was doing. Wonderful, wicked man.
A strangled cry escaped her. Sensation blossomed. Pleasure unfurled, beginning there at her center and radiating outward, bringing with it the desperate need for more. She had seen the act, of course, represented in his naughty alphabet pictures at his club. But a hand-tinted lithograph could hardly compare to his skilled lips and tongue.
The desire he wrung from her was intense. She writhed beneath him, moaning when he caught her between his teeth and bit. Dear. Sweet. Heavens. Above. His tongue flitted over her in quick, steady pulses, soothing that sting, sending flutters of heat through her.
He licked down her slit next, parting her folds. His tongue sank inside her, thrusting in and out as he had the night before with his manhood. The wet slide, lapping at her core, was electric. And then, his thumb found her already desperately sensitive bud, flicking over her with fast, steady pressure.
Jo lost control. Something deep inside her clenched, and then she felt the same molten rush she had the night before. Her hips swiveled from the bed, and her fingers sank into his hair as she held him there, exactly where she wanted him. The sight of his dark head bent between her legs was so carnal, so thoroughly erotic. It only served to heighten the impact of her spend as it washed over her.
But as the last ripples of bliss subsided, he did not stop. Instead, he buried his tongue deep, as if he were seeking something, lapping up the wetness that seemed to be trickling from her core. He moaned, the sound guttural. A sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He liked this every bit as much as she did, Jo realized. The knowledge only served to heighten each sensation. She sifted her fingers through his wavy, mahogany locks, rocking into his mouth. Now that she had spent once, she was greedy and ravenous. She wanted to spend again. She never wanted his mouth to stop.
She whimpered when he at last withdrew, already at the edge of another climax.
He glanced up her body, his beautiful lips glistening with her dew, and lazily stroked his thumb over her pearl. “I think I want your cream for breakfast every day.”
The words had their intended effect. She trembled beneath him, desperate. He swirled over her again, then sank a finger deep inside her channel, working it in and out of her. The wet sounds echoed in the chamber. Her need for him was at once a