“It is good you’ll be doing all the work, piccolina, as I have tired myself out, chopping all that wood.”

I did not believe him for a second.

I did not have the opportunity to share that for he bumped me off his shoulder, I landed on my back on our bed, but my husband immediately grabbed my hips and flipped me to my belly.

That belly dipped, I felt my breasts swell in a pleasing manner, and both of these things happened again when I felt him tug sharply at the laces at the back of my gown.

“Mars,” I whispered.

They came loose, and I was flipped again to my back, then my skirts were tossed over my head.

Oh my.

I had a feeling I was going to find that it was rather fabulous to have your skirts tossed by a king.

If that king was your husband.

And that husband was Mars.

I felt his hands at my hips again, sliding up, taking my dress with it.

I lifted my arms, the dress was gone, and I was in nothing but my chemise, my corset and my panties.

Though, with a great sweep of his arm, I lost the panties.

I shivered in delight.

However…

I thought I was going to be pleasing him.

“Mars,” I whispered again, lifting my head from the pillows and watching him press a kiss to the skin under my navel.

His beard tickled but that wasn’t the only reason why I trembled as he slid farther up, and I had his weight when he captured my lips.

I thought no more of pleasing him.

I thought only of kissing him and touching him, and this was what I did.

I heard his boots clunk to the floor as he toed them off, ignored it, and continued to kiss my husband.

I could not ignore his fingers curling into the material of the chemise that covered my breast, nor could I ignore him pulling it down.

Nor did I want to.

I gasped against his lips.

His lips disappeared, and he moved down so they could capture my nipple and draw deep.

At that, I whimpered, sliding my fingers into his hair and squirming beneath him.

“Mars, my love,” I breathed.

And felt his growl rumble against my nipple before I lost his mouth there and his face was in mine.

“What did you just call me?” he demanded.

I wasn’t listening.

I was fumbling with the laces at his waist on each side of his long-sleeved leather shirt.

“Silence,” he called.

“This must go,” I mumbled desperately.

He pushed up, yanked at the laces, then tore off the shirt.

All that skin.

The muscle.

Oh, yes.

I put my hands to it, rising, pressing and twisting to take him down to his back.

“Silence,” he gritted.

“Lie down,” I ordered.

“Bellezza.”

I squinted at his face and snapped, “You aren’t being very accommodating, my king.”