throat and a glimpse of his bare chest. He moved toward her slowly, causing her heart to slam against her ribs.
Taking the snifter from her hand, he brought it to his lips and drank the remainder before setting it aside. His hands gently clasped her shoulders as he gazed down at her. Nervously, she wet her lips.
“Are you certain this is what you wish for, Dalinda?”
Even though she thought her actions foolish, she said, “Yes.”
“I am going to explore every inch of you,” he promised. “We might be up all night.”
A shiver ran through her at the thought of his hands on her. Then she longed to touch him, she asked, “Might I do the same to you?”
A low growl came from him and suddenly she was in his arms. His kiss was demanding. Thrilling. All-consuming. She didn’t know when one kiss ended and another began. She tasted the brandy as their tongues collided and mated. He growled again, crushing her to him. She felt small and powerless and wanted him so badly that no words could ever convey that to him. Instead, she let her actions speak for her.
He gentled the kiss, bringing her back to earth, and continued to kiss her as he sought the knot and undid it, slowly tugging on the sash and pulling the dressing gown from her, allowing it to fall to the floor. His eyes roamed over her as his fingers reached behind her head and began pulling the pins from her hair. Moments later, the dark waves spilled about her.
Rhys took her hand and led her to the dressing table, urging her to sit. She did and he placed the pins in his hand on the table. Reaching for her brush, he began pulling it through her locks. Slowly, Sensually. She had never thought the act of brushing her hair could be erotic.
Until now.
Their gazes met in the mirror and she began to tremble, seeing the want in his eyes and feeling the need soar within her. He removed his banyan and she rose, fascinated by the broad, muscular chest and flat belly, a trail of fine, dark hair disappearing into his trousers. She placed her palms against it, hearing his sharp intake of breath. Slowly, she allowed her hands to glide up and down his chest as she explored it. Her fingers went to the flat disks of his nipples and circled them. He swallowed and then caught her wrists.
“I want to see you. All of you,” he said, his voice low and raw.
Dalinda nodded. He released her hands, which she dropped to her sides. He caught the hem of her night rail and quickly pulled it upward and over her head, tossing it away. She felt her cheeks blaze with embarrassment and turned her eyes downward.
“What?” he asked softly, lifting her chin in his fingers. “What is wrong?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have the girlish figure I once did. After birthing two boys, my breasts are larger. My hips wider. I know I am not—”
His fingertips touched her lips, silencing her. “You are a mature, beautiful woman, Dalinda. The most beautiful woman I have ever beheld. I feel fortunate to gaze upon such beauty.”
She bit her lip. “You don’t have to ply me with pretty platitudes, Rhys.”
His hands cupped her cheeks. “But they aren’t, my duchess. Every word from my lips speaks the truth. I will never lie to you. Never.”
He brought her against him, enfolded in his arms, his body heat flooding her. Her arms went around him, stroking his bare back. His did the same and she found immense comfort in that gesture.
Suddenly, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, placing her gently upon it. With haste, he rid himself of his trousers and she saw the effect she had on him. His manhood stood proud and erect, so large that a bit of panic flared within her.
Joining her on the bed, he said, “No more words. Just touch. Taste.” He leaned close and drew in a long breath. “And smell. My God, you smell as fresh as a rose garden.”
Rhys held to his promise. Dalinda didn’t think there was a part of her skin that he did not claim with fingers or tongue. He roamed her body freely and allowed her to do the same to him. She liked the salty taste of his skin and the musk of it, too. He worshipped each of her breasts, fondling and caressing them