Page 79 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
She hadn’t thought ahead about what might happen after he joined with her, but she could imagine nothing more perfect than this.
“Mmm,” she murmured, soul-deep contentment suffusing her blood. He was so hard, so solid and warm underneath her, his arm curled protectively around her. Her body felt languid, a not-too-unpleasant ache between her legs a consistent reminder that she was no longer a virginal old maid. No, she was a thoroughly debauched and ruined woman.
She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.
“What is it?” Matthew looked down at her from where his head was propped on a pillow.
“I’m just thinking about what a wanton I am.”
His arm tightened around her. “I wouldn’t call you wanton.”
“Wouldn’t you?” When he shook his head, she asked, “What would you call me?”
He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to change his mind. His fingertips moved down her back and back up again in a sensual slide. “Beautiful,” he finally said.
He’d said that word in regard to her about a half dozen times today. People had called Jo “pretty” once or twice years ago, but those compliments had vanished when Lilly had started to accompany her to social events. Thereafter, Lilly had been called pretty hundreds of times, while Jo could count the number of times the word had been applied to her on one hand.
No one, though, had ever called her beautiful. Now, he’d said it over and over. She knew the Duke of Crestmont well enough by now to know that he wasn’t generous with compliments, nor did he have a tendency to spout pretty words he didn’t mean.
No, he meant it. He truly thought she was beautiful. She closed her eyes, her smile slipping from her face, and sank against him. She loved that he had given her the gift of that word. She loved all that he had given her today, and how deliciously wonderful he’d been while doing it.
They lay there in comfortable silence for several minutes—or maybe longer. Jo might have fallen into a light sleep, but she came wide awake when he shifted slightly.
She started to move off him, but his arm tightened. “No. Stay. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m just…” She sighed with contentment. “…socomfortable.”
She felt, rather than saw, his smile. “I am, too.”
“I should probably move, though. I need to get home before dinner. Everyone thinks I’m in my office working, but they’ll check if I’m late, and if they don’t see me there, they’ll panic.”
“Just a little while longer.”
He didn’t have to twist her arm to make her stay. She truly didn’t want to move. Ever.
“And you,” she said. “You’ll be extremely late for your appointment, or wherever you were headed, by now.”
He shrugged. “It was just to meet Jameson at the boathouse.”
“Won’t he wonder where you are?”
“Yes, but he’ll assume I was waylaid by something important. Which I was.”
“Mm,” she said, snuggling closer. “Did you just call me important?”
“I believe I did.”
There it went—her heart. Melting for him, then handing itself over to him on a platter. Warning bells clanged in the back of her mind. She needed to think about something else, veer to safer territory.
“How is the boat-building going?”
He launched into an explanation of angles beneath the waterline and how they affected the speed of the vessel. His interest in rowing and boats was pure and passionate, and it fascinated her.
“I’d love to take you for a row sometime, though I’ve never seen a woman row a racing boat before.”
“I’d love to be your first.”
“As I was yours?” he murmured, and her face went hot. His fingertips stroked down over the swell of her bottom, then his hand flattened and he pushed her more tightly against his thigh. She pulled in a sharp breath at the arousal that shot through her.
