“I don’t think that’s true,” I told him with more hope than surety. “I think he’s realized that the time has come he’s losing his daughter to another man, that other man is a man who will take her far away, and he’s utilizing the little time he has to be with her.”

There was a different kind of regret in his expression when he replied, “I do not think you are right, bellezza, but I hope for your sake you are. And if this is what he desires, he will have more time with you as well as time to convince your husband his motivations are noble. But with the protection of your heart in mind, my love, I urge you to be on your guard if what you hope proves untrue.”

This was good advice, therefore I nodded.

“Good,” he murmured, his gaze drifting to my mouth as the hand not at my face which I had lost track of drifted elsewhere. “Now to correct the mistake I made last night.”

Did he mean to…?

I watched a different fire light in his eyes.

He meant to.

Eep!

“My king,” I called.

“Mm?” he answered, but he also didn’t answer seeing as he had no intention to listen to whatever I’d meant to say, and I knew this when his lips hit my jaw just as his hand cupped my breast.

I felt the tip of his tongue trail to the skin below my ear, and this caused a delightful shiver.

Then his thumb glided over my bodice at my nipple which caused a glorious shake.

Oh my.

“My king,” I whispered.

His head came up. “Right here, Silence.”

He was.

Right there.

And his thumb was right then circling my nipple which had begun to ache in a strange and wonderous way.

It had also made another part of me ache in a lovely and glorious way.

My gaze dropped to his mouth.

I watched it move to ask, “Is that what you want, wife?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

Apparently, he told no lies last night when he said if I wanted something, I should tell my husband for I barely finished the word before I had his mouth, his tongue, as well as his finger and thumb closing on my nipple over the bodice of my gown and then rolling.

Magnificent.

I mewed into his mouth, rounded him with my arms and arched up.

“Wanton,” he whispered against my lips, nipping the bottom one sharply with his teeth before slanting his head and taking my mouth in a much deeper, wetter, headier kiss at the same time he angled his lower half away and yanked up my skirts.

My belly did an odd dip at these actions.

And it did another, much stronger one, as his fingers found the top edge of my panties.

But this time, he did not tease.

He did not play.