Page 11 of How to Lose a Dowry in Three Bucks
Peverel took her head between his colossal hands, staring into her eyes and studying her expression.
“Then you’ll need training,” he said, sliding his thumb into her parted lips. “A good deal of training.”
“How does one come by this training? Hard work?”
“Getting worked hard,” he growled, withdrawing his thumb only to press it back in.
“And how does one obtain this?” she asked around his digit.
“Have no fear,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll train you up.”
Chapter 7
The next morning, afterthey’d shared a somewhat tense breakfast, Matt showed Sophia to his exercise room. She’d considered his proposal all night, having wrestled long into the wee hours with the implications of being photographed while ravished by a group of men, and woke up resolved: she needed those men. Some part of her — one part in particular, if she was honest —wantedthose men and their commanding attention.
He’d been hard at work late into the night to prepare the room. It smelled strongly of lemon polish; he’d substituted a chaise longue and low table from his bedroom for his usual training sandbags, covering the implements with a cloth.
Matt began removing his coat and waistcoat, causing Sophia to exclaim.
“What are you doing?” she asked, fear in her eyes.
He’d have to handle her gently; on some level, she wanted this training and ruination, but years of being instilled with ladylike decorum would make her resistant to her genuine desires.
“As your trainer, I expect to work hard,” he said, slowing his movements. “I expect that you’ll end up quite…glistening as well.”
“I suppose itishard work.”
“Very hard,” he said, resisting the urge to squeeze the part of him that was growing very hard indeed thanks to her presence.
“Well, needs must,” she said, struggling to get out of her dress.
“What are you—”
“Could you assist me with the buttons?” she asked him, turning to give him her back.
Matthew stood, unable to move at first, as this lass waited for his help to get her clothes off. He’d meant to get down to his shirtsleeves and roll them up so she might get a look at his muscular forearms; he never imagined that she’d strip down alongside him.
In truth, she’d need to remove her clothes to accomplish her ruination, but he’d expected that she’d fight it every step of the way despite her natural curiosity. Miss Stafford offered genuine surprises.
When she was down to her chemise, Sophia turned to Matt expectantly.
He struggled to keep his eyes up, really tried to be a gentleman, but the hint of a nipple at the bottom of his vision pulled his gaze down.
The sudden intake of air pushed his belly forward. She’d been hiding the most lush breasts under all of that fabric, tipped with nipples that gathered into piercing little points that he longed to taste. He needed a moment to collect himself.
“You should warm the body first,” he said gruffly. “Laps, five of them, around the perimeter.”
Sophia cast him a glance and then walked around the room.
“At a run!” he shouted after her.
She picked up the pace and soon she was prancing like a coquette, her heavy breasts bouncing. Matt groaned and sank onto the chaise. He’d done this to himself. There was no other way to describe it.
At the end of the five laps, she stood in front of him, breathing more heavily than before but not so hard as Matt when confronted with glistening skin and the hint of a bush behind that chemise.
He stood in a rush, sending the furniture skittering over the floor slightly. “Take a seat,” he bit out while rolling a covered chalkboard over to where she sat.
From the front of the board he pulled off the sheet that had covered the illustrations he’d sketched last night; one wouldn’t want to scandalize the maids when they came in to clean.
