Page 63 of Marigold and the Marquess
“Kiss you and put my tongue on you as you do to me.”
Blessed saints.
He was doomed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Leo.” She nudged him onto his back and knelt between his legs.
Her sweet mouth on…him? He was going to expire from the pleasure of it.
He cast her a wicked smile. “Have at it, Marigold. Do your worst.”
In truth, he did not believe she would go through with it because she was a proper lady and he did not think most proper ladies ever would do such a thing. This activity was considered highly improper.
But Marigold was Marigold, and she had her own sense of rules.
Besides, he still had his breeches on and had not unbuttoned the falls. He could not imagine her following through on the proposition…not…blessed saints.
It was the best afternoon Leo had ever spent in his life or expected ever to spend. In all his years of experience…well, not all had gone exactly as planned.
In truth, he had not held out even close to five minutes.
But who could with Marigold?
Her lips.
Her tongue.
He had released fast, like a schoolboy experiencing his first carnal encounter.
Worse, he had squirted in her face because she was so damned innocent and had no idea what to look out for or that there was anything to look out for or move aside to avoid. “Leo!” she had cried out as the result of months of abstinence came spurting out of him like the legendary eruption of Mt. Vesuvius.
Afterward, he had lain there like a lump, caught up in a climax coma and trying to recover his breath while she sputtered andeewed, and then scrambled off the bed to wet a washcloth and vigorously scrub her face.
He finally rose to her side to assist her, then took the wet cloth to clean himself off.
Marigold was now staring at him wide-eyed. “You must think I am an idiot.”
He took her into his embrace. “You are the most beautiful thing in my life. This was the best moment ever. You’ll know what to look out for next time and anticipate me better.”
He kissed her on the forehead, his arms folded around her as he told her how precious she was to him. “You are splendid and wonderful. If you are to accuse anyone of being an idiot, it should be me. But we are neither of us fools. Come back to bed with me, Marigold. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are.”
There was nothing more soothing to him than the feel of her silken skin against his rough hide.
“Then you are not laughing at me?”
“Well, just a little. But it is only that I am so delighted with you. You are fresh and innocent. Do not be angry with me, love. You’ve won. I am thoroughly seduced. You have me in your thrall.”
“Do I? Then will you tell me what I want to know?”
He carried her back to bed and slipped in beside her. “Yes.”
He tucked his arm around her so that she rested her head against his chest and her body was curled up against his. “Ask your questions.”
She sighed. “I forgot what I wanted to ask you.”
He could have avoided the unpleasantness and distracted her with other topics while keeping to his original cowardly plan of waiting until their carriage ride to tell her about Denby. But there was no reason to hold off, certainly not after their glorious, and admittedly bordering on the disastrous, afternoon romp in the sack.
Yes, some might call it a disaster.
