Page 36 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
The movement was subtle—a shift of warm skin against silk, the brush of a heavy limb against her own. She felt rather than saw the moment he woke, his breath deepening, his body tensing as awareness returned to him. His hair roughened leg brushed against her thigh and a frisson of awareness snaked through her. With a simple touch, a mere brush of his limb against her, he had reignited the need for him that ought to have been fully assuaged. A terrifying thought came to her then. What if having him in her bed even one time was too much?
“I can hear you thinking,” Max muttered, his voice a low rasp from sleep.
Glancing over at him, she knew immediately that she had made a terrible error in strategy. Max looked like sin incarnate. Disheveled. Hair mussed from sleep. The morning light carving sharp angles across his handsome, infuriating face, highlighting the shadow of stubble along his jaw.
And worst of all, he was smirking. That wretched, lazy smirk that suggested he was entirely too pleased with himself.
Violet stiffened, instantly annoyed at his smug, self-satisfied expression. “Perhaps if you found my thoughts so disruptive, you should not have woken up.”
A lazy huff of amusement ghosted over her bare shoulder, but then he opened his eyes and what she saw in his gaze was not at all what she’d expected. Yes, his lips had twisted in a wry and slightly sardonic smile, yes. Yes, he looked very much like the cat who had gotten the proverbial canary. But there was a warmth as he looked at her, a softness she saw in him that he had kept well concealed from her in the past.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” She asked.
“In what way?”
“That way!”
He grinned. “You mean as if I’d very much like to make love to you again this morning?” That was not the answer Violet had expected. Well, it was to a degree. She simply hadn’t expected him to state it so plainly. Her face flamed with embarrassment, not simply because he’d said it but because she was so very tempted to let him. “In daylight?”
He laughed then, throwing his head back as he did so.
Immediately, it infuriated her. But she couldn’t get out of bed because she was still entirely naked. Glancing about her, she saw the familiar embroidery peeking out from beneath his one bare leg that was so casually displayed atop the covers. Holding the coverlet to her breasts, she reached down and snatched the garment from beneath him. It was no mean feat to get the blasted thing on without actually revealing herself, but somehow she managed.
By that point, he had sobered somewhat, his mirth having abated. She didn’t care. Shoving the covers back, she eased from the bed. But her caution was pointless. The moment her feet touched the floor, her knees very nearly buckled and she had to cling to the bedpost to keep herself upright.
A sharp, startled gasp left her lips as her legs refused to cooperate, and before she could right herself, Max was there—grabbing her waist, steadying her.
“Careful,” he murmured, his voice far too amused for her liking.
Violet snapped her head up, mortified. “I am perfectly fine.”
Max arched a brow. “Are you?”
She scowled. “Yes.”
A beat of silence passed. Then his gaze flickered downward, and when he looked back up at her his expression was still smug but also hungry. Hungry in a way that both excited and frightened her.
“Interesting,” he mused.
Violet narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“There is no greater compliment to a man’s prowess than to no he has quite literally robbed a woman of her ability to even stand,” he mused.
“I can?—”
He tilted his head. “You just nearly collapsed, Violet.”
“That was?—”
“—the direct result,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself, “of last night’s rather remarkable exertions.”
Violet practically growled.
“You—” She jabbed a finger at his broad, unrepentant chest. “Are insufferable.”
Max merely grinned. “And yet, you married me.”
She inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of patience she had ever possessed.
