Leaning closer, Alyssa studied that portion of his anatomy that made him indisputably male, unable to believe that the long hard ridge she’d massaged and traced with her fingertips could be so easily concealed and contained beneath his tight breeches. “Is it always like this?”
“Only during the past week or so.” He met her gaze, waiting until he saw understanding dawn in her eyes. “That’s right,” he nodded in approval. “It’s been like this—more or less—nearly every day since I first met you.”
She reached out to touch him, then stopped short. “It looks painful.”
“It can be very painful,” he told her. “But only if you don’t touch me.”
As she continued to watch, Griffin stripped off his waistcoat and lawn shirt. He tossed his clothes into the corner of the opposite seat beside Alyssa’s traveling dress.
Wanting to see him completely naked, Alyssa impulsively moved to the opposite seat and began tugging at his boots.
Griffin helped, toeing off his Hessians and stripping off his stockings and breeches before leaning back against the velvet squabs so his inquisitive bride could get a look at him in all his male glory.
Alyssa stared. She had known he was handsome. But she hadn’t realized he was beautiful until he sat sprawled before her like a gypsy slave on display. A blue-eyed gypsy slave…
Alyssa’s breathing increased. The sight of him fascinated her. She loved the way he challenged her and answered her curiosity, spreading his legs and planting his long, elegantly arched feet on the floor of the coach to give her an unencumbered view of the mysteries of the male body.
His wide shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, into slim hips and strong thighs. His chest was covered with a patch of dark curly hair that also tapered down into a long slim line that encircled his navel and pointed to the hard erection jutting from another nest of dark curls. He was big. He was all male. And he was hers for the taking. Her blue-eyed gypsy lord. All he needed was a wide gold arm cuff to complete the picture and perhaps an earring…
“Well?” he drawled.
She said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”
Griffin gifted her with a broad smile. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to hear that, my lady.”
“You just did,” she said. “But then, you obviously cannot say the same.”
“That’s because I see a naked man in my mirror each time I step out of my bed.” His broad smile became an amused chuckle.
Alyssa bit her lower lip to keep from laughing with him. “I meant that you obviously couldn’t say that you have never seen a naked woman before.”
Griff arched one eyebrow in an elegantly lazy gesture that spoke of generations of noble ancestors. “I don’t see one now.”
Alyssa looked down at her chemise, realizing for the first time how very transparent it was. “Close enough.”
Griff shook his head slowly from side to side. “Not close enough.”
“But you’ve seen a naked woman before,” she protested, suddenly inexplicably modest.
“I’ve never seen my wife naked.” He met her gaze, then softened his voice to what could best be described as a soft, rumbling purr. “I’ve never seen you naked. And I want to, Alyssa. Very much.”
“All right.” Her assent was nearly lost amid the patter of rain on the roof of the coach and the noise of the team.
He’d hired post riders as protection, and it was a relatively safe drive with the moon nearly full, but accidents could happen, and heaven help them if they lost a wheel, became bogged in the quagmire that passed as the post road, or encountered highwaymen, Griff thought as Alyssa reached up to untie the drawstring ribbon resting along the curve of her breasts. No doubt, his driver, Myrick, and the coachmen and groom, and
the driver of the other coach—not to mention Alyssa’s lady’s maid and his valet—would be scandalized by their game of seduction. No doubt it was worth it.
Griff smiled like the cat that ate the cream and crooked his index finger at Alyssa. “Closer.”
She scooted to the edge of the opposite seat.
Griff patted the seat beside him. “Closer.”
Alyssa moved to sit beside him.
“Allow me.” He faced her, then reached over and untied the white satin drawstring ribbon holding her chemise in place. When he’d successfully unknotted the bow, Griffin looped a finger in the gathered neck of the garment and tugged. The chemise slipped off her shoulders, sliding down her chest until it hung suspended on the slope of her upturned breasts.
Seeking a solution to the problem, Griffin leaned forward and kissed the hard, rosy tips of her breasts through the fabric of her chemise.