Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

“Now come to bed, Miss Sloane. We had better get some rest. We need to keep up our strength so that when we catch up to these dastards, we can beat them to a pulp.”

Bed. The memory of their passionate interlude in Hurley’s sun-dappled cottage bed stirred an ache of longing. In watching the working of Society from the shadows of London’s ballrooms, she had come to think that strong, solid men of integrity didn’t exist in the flesh. And yet here was a paragon of masculine muscle who was kind and caring despite his brusque manner. He was…he was, in a word…

Perfect.

Olivia wasn’t aware of having spoken, but somehow a sound must have slipped out, for he heard him chuckle.

“A lumpy mattress is hardly perfect,” murmured John. “But I shall not complain. For all its faults, it’s more comfortable than a hard slab of wind-chilled oak.”

However, a sharp grunt as he rolled on to his side quickly belied his optimism.

“Hmmph. I wonder what the cursed fellow has stashed in the stuffing.” He was no longer laughing. “My guess is turnips.”

“Or perhaps chestnuts for the Christmas season celebrations,” she suggested. “The lumps feel smaller than turnips.”

The suggestion drew a low snort of amusement. But whatever the source, they were clearly making it hard for the earl to settle into sleep.

Without thinking, Olivia reached out and brushed the long, curling hair from the column of his neck. “Try to relax. Your muscles are bunched in knots. Let me see if I can help loosen them.”

She took his silence as permission to continue. Deepening the pressure, she stroked her fingers over his flesh, moving up and down, from the base of his skull to the line of his spine.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Emboldened, Olivia raised her other hand and went to work on his shoulders. The lone candle was still alight, its soft flicker playing over the thin cotton nightshirt, the dark contours of muscle. She had never touched a man like this before. There was a profound sense of connection to such a long, leisurely interlude of exploring his body. A warmth radiating from something far different, far deeper than sexual heat. The tingling against her skin transcended passion. The sensation was gentler, calmer—and yet no less powerful.

John grunted and she felt the tension start to ease from his body.

It was very sensuous to slide her hands over his spine, his shoulderblades, his muscles and feel the nuances of shape and textures—sharp and rounded, hard and soft. She found herself acutely aware of the broad stretch of shoulders, the curve of his ribcage, the lean tapered waist.

“A man,” she mused aloud, “is really built quite differently from a woman.”

The pillows muffled most of John’s laugh. “It would be even more evident were I to turn over.”

She rather wished he would.

He grunted again, a rougher rumble from somewhere deep in his throat.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” she asked, realizing that in her curiosity to learn all his subtle contours she had begun kneading his flesh with greater intensity.

“Mmmm, no, it feels good.” He shifted slightly. “More than good, in fact. Divine.”

“Your legs must be tired from bracing yourself on the box.” Moving her hands downward, Olivia skimmed over the intriguing curve of his buttocks to the back of his thighs, taking secret pleasure in making his lean, lithe body respond to her touch.

“Lovely,” he mumbled, “Lovely.”

As she worked over his legs, her strokes settled into a smooth rhythm. A soothing rhythm that held a natural intimacy.

At the thought, Olivia stifled a laugh. This was, she realized, her very first night of sleeping with a man. How oddly ironic that there was nothing romantic about it.

But then, there was a closeness between them that few newlyweds had. More than lovers, they were friends. At least she hoped they were, despite all the tangled emotions.

A sound—a snore—interrupted her reveries. She kept up her rubbing until she was sure from his breathing that he had fallen asleep.

“Rest easy, Wrexham,” she whispered. “Together we will find Prescott and bring him home safely.”

Drawing the blanket higher, she carefully tucked it over his shoulders and smoothed a curling lock of hair from his jaw before blowing out the candle and slipping under the covers beside him.