“Put me down.”“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

“She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.”Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.”

“He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable.”

“You're allowed to look, sweetheart, he murmured, running a finger down her hot cheek. I enjoy having your eyes on me.”

“That’s an awful lot of littles, don’t you think?”“Perhaps.” He displayed his hand. “Big.” He set hers next to his, so small and delicate contrasted with his thick, blunt fingers. Why did holding her fragile hand raise every protective instinct he had?”

“She realised she was whimpering. Sir held her closer, his hard grip reassuring. This wasn't a dream; he really was here.”

“When I want to.” He ran his finger over her lips. “You don’t get a vote, honey.”