Page 112 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“In the tub,” she elaborated, patting the water invitingly as though it were a mattress. She forgot it would splash. Shaking the water droplets out of her eyes, she gave a rueful laugh. “Though you might want to ask Bennett first for another two buckets of hot water to top it up. It is not as hot as it was.”

But James was already stripping off his clothes. “I don’t care about that,” he said, flinging off his tunic. “During my days of King’s service, I’ve often bathed in cold-water streams. Unless you want more hot water? In which case, I can easily fetch more,” he said, pausing in the act of unlacing his crotch.

“No, no, I am content,” she assured him. “Do not go on my account.”

With a flattering haste, he finished undressing his gorgeous body. No matter how often she feasted her eyes on him, Gunnilde was sure she would never get used to his masculine beauty. It was astonishing how good-looking he was. She felt quite dazzled by it at times.

In no time at all, James slid into the water beside her, his long, well-formed limbs brushing up against her own shorter, chubby ones. Even if she were not trying to seduce him, there was no way Gunnilde could have arranged herself so their bodies would not be pressed against one another.

“You’re so tall and well favored,” she told him admiringly, stroking his thighs.

He made an involuntary noise in his throat. “Gunnilde,” he said huskily.

“Have you enough room?” she asked, pretending she had not noticed his hard cock and flushed face. She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms about them and obscuring his view of her breasts. Well, most of them, anyway. They were not so easily hidden.

“It’s not room that I crave,” he answered, meeting her eyes, his hair falling over his one eye. Gunnilde’s heart squeezed. Remember what you are about, she admonished herself. You are the one that is supposed to be doing the seducing here, not him!

“What, then?” Gunnilde asked, a small smile playing about her lips.

“Closeness,” he answered.

“Is this not close enough?” she asked coyly. He shook his head. “No? I hardly know how we could be closer still. Unless I come and sit in your lap?”

His nostrils flared. “Yes,” he answered, his voice deeper than usual. “Like you did at our wedding banquet when you rescued me.”

“Rescued you?” she queried as she clambered up onto her knees. There was no dignified way she could do this, she thought as she scrambled inelegantly over him. She was not lithe enough to do it with grace. Not that James seemed to mind. His hands were at her waist, on her hips, urging her closer, groaning loudly as she settled her plump body atop of his.

“How did I rescue you?” she asked breathlessly, feeling the press of his thick, heavy cock against her soft belly.

“From that jester,” he whispered. “Do not tell me you have forgotten. It is burned on my memory like a brand.”

Gunnilde gazed down at him in puzzlement. “You mean—?”

“When first you kissed me,” he said in a gravelly voice.

“Well, in fact our first kiss was after we exchanged vows,” she reminded him.

“No,” he rumbled, his eyes trained on her mouth. “No, that was when I first kissed you, which was naught but a pathetic peck. Yours was much better.”

Was it? Gunnilde cast back in her mind, but surely hers had been just as close-mouthed an effort, scarcely even qualifying as a kiss? She looked back at James, but he gazed back at her so intently that she found she had to believe him. What had she done that had affected him so?

“You mean, when I did this?” she asked, slowly placing her hands on either side of his face.

He caught his breath. “Yes,” he hissed.

Oh. So, it had been her seizing the initiative. “You like for me to have the upper hand, James?” she asked, making him whimper. Goodness, he did like it, she thought with dawning realization. He liked it a lot.

“And this?” she asked, lowering her face to his and sealing her lips to his mouth. In fact, this was quite, quite different, she acknowledged, as she ran her tongue against the seam of his mouth. She wouldn’t have dreamed of kissing him thus at their wedding feast. Part of her wondered if he would not have shoved her off his lap if she had done such a thing!

Well, he certainly was not pushing her away now, she acknowledged as he sucked her tongue into his mouth with a needy groan. Gunnilde only allowed him the briefest stroke of her tongue against his own before she withdrew, making him gasp with dissatisfaction.

“We did not kiss in front of all our wedding guests like this,” she reminded him, tutting. “Such a thing would have been most improper.”

“Nay, you kissed me longer,” he insisted. “Much longer. Until the jester fully passed us by.”

“Did I?” she asked, frowning as though with the effort of recall.

“Yes,” he growled. “Do it right.”