The arm that was around her waist slid a little lower, enabling him to cup her bottom in his hand. Her very velvety and soft naked bottom. A fact that he was viscerally aware of as he instantly hardened.

“How’s that stamina of yours now?” she asked playfully.

He groaned as her lips sent a trail of fire along his jaw and neck.

Before she realized what he intended, he flipped her on the bed and rolled on top of her. Those moves Raider had taught him had come in handy many times, but maybe never as handy as this.

It was funny, though. For a split second it almost seemed as if she had anticipated his movement. She tensed and started to move her leg as if to block him.

But there was certainly no resistance now. She practically melted under him. God, he liked her under him. On top of him. Whatever the hell position she wanted, as long as she was naked and he had full access to all that creamy, delectable skin.

Pinning her arms over her head, he started to kiss his way down her body. He couldn’t wait to make her squirm and beg. “We have all night to find out.”

Or so he thought, but somewhere after the third or fourth time of working on his stamina, Alex was roused from a deep—very deep—sleep by a sound.

Knowing Joan was just as exhausted as he, if not more so (he’d lost count after seven or eight of how many times he made her cry out), he was surprised when she immediately stirred as well. She was as alert as a warrior, he thought with amusement.

The sound of the outer door—for that’s what he realized had woken him—was followed a moment later by the sound of a table or chair leg squeaking against the floor, and then someone crying out. “Ouch! Where’s the blasted candle? Joan!”

Joan’s gaze flew to his. “Hurry and hide,” she whispered. “It’s Alice. She must have seen the light.”

They’d forgotten—or been too exhausted—to blow out the candle.

Hearing the unmistakable sounds of footsteps coming toward the room, Joan slid from bed, grabbed her robe, and threw it on as she raced for the door. Opening it, she slid outside, effectively blocking the entry and preventing her cousin from coming inside. By the closeness of Alice’s voice, it was just in time.

“There you are,” Alice said as if Joan had been hiding.

“Where else would I be?” Joan said with dry, exaggerated patience. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Alice didn’t hear or didn’t care about the subtle reprimand. “Henry can’t sleep. He has a horrible headache. I told him about your magic powder, and he sent me to fetch some.”