The Marriage Bed. Helen Bianchin
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A soft laugh choked in her throat as he freed one tender globe and took a liberty with its peak. Then she cried out as he lifted her over one shoulder and began striding from the room.
‘Caveman tactics,’ she accused as he ascended the stairs.
He gained the upper floor, then headed for the main suite. When he reached it, he released her to stand within the circle of his arms.
‘Want to undress me?’
Her eyes sparkled with wicked humour. ‘Might be quicker if you did it yourself.’
‘That bad, huh?’
‘Yes,’ she said with honest simplicity, her own fingers as busy as his as clothes layered the carpet.
Their loving was all heat and hunger the first time round, followed by a long, sweet after-play that led to the slow slaking of mutual need.
Afterwards she lay with her head pillowed against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
‘I don’t think I could bear to lose you,’ Gabbi said, on the edge of sleep, and wasn’t sure whether she heard or dreamed his response.
‘What makes you think you will?’
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