Page 38 of The Governess’ Unlikely Suitor (The Dashworth Brothers #2)

‘No.’ Being hot made sleeping harder, but she did not need to understand the practical reason behind his decisions. Not when she was licking her lips and looking at him as if he were a dessert.

‘You fancy people and your warm houses. You do not know you are born,’ she teased him.

‘You always speak like you lived on the streets and did not grow up in a rather large vicarage in Plumberry.’

‘You have been doing your research.’

‘I spent a lot of time searching for your brother. Of course I investigated where he came from.’

‘Oh.’ She looked slightly crestfallen, almost as though she had been hoping he had been looking into her; he took this as a good sign and took a step closer.

‘Do you still want to help?’ he asked.

She squared her shoulders. Yes.’ Glancing towards his bedroom doors, she motioned towards them.

‘You go in there and take off… and get ready and I will join you when you are under the covers.’ She made a gesture with her hands to indicate the covers should be up to his chin.

‘To clarify—’ she held up a hand ‘—I will not be getting into bed with you or taking anything off.’

‘Understood.’ Turning away from her, he hid his grin. He’d hated those men for coming into his house with their over-the-top floral displays, fearing he’d missed his opportunity, but he suspected he might be miles ahead of the others. Now he just had to make sure there were no others.

His smile did not abate as he stripped. For the first time he could remember, he did not arrange his clothes neatly, only stopping to throw them over a chair.

The sheets were cool against his skin, but he liked them that way.

He cleared his throat, hoping he did not sound overeager when he called, ‘I am ready.’

She peered around the bedroom door, stepping fully in when she saw him covered in the sheets as requested.

At the sight of her, his cockstand grew painfully hard, almost straining in its desperation to get to her.

He’d laugh if it wasn’t embarrassing. He glanced down the bedclothes, adjusting his legs so she would not be able to see the shape of it through the sheets.

She rubbed her hands together. ‘I must admit to feeling a trifle foolish. I have only used this on children before, not adults.’

He laughed and was gratified to see her shoulders loosening. ‘Why not come and sit—’ he nodded towards the edge of his bed ‘—and tell me what we are doing here?

Whatever she was going to try was highly unlikely to work. His body was on high alert, desperate for her attention, but he did not want her to leave and so he would play along until she gave up and left of her own accord.

The bed dipped as she settled near him. ‘The idea is to get you to relax.’

He waited for her to go on because surely that was obvious. ‘Right,’ he said when she didn’t. ‘How are we going to do that?’

‘Do you mind if I touch you?’

For a wild moment he thought she meant his length and it twitched excitedly before he dismissed the thought. ‘Where?’

‘Your hair.’

‘That would be acceptable.’ He was unsure why he sounded like such a pompous twit, but she did not comment on his strangely formal answer.

‘I am also going to blow this out.’

She didn’t wait for his response and simply blew on the candle, plunging the room into darkness. ‘I should have got into position before doing that,’ she murmured.

The bed dipped again as she came nearer; the sheets moving over his already tender flesh had him rolling his eyes backwards, glad she could not see his face.

Damn it. Was he going to spill himself from just lying next to her in the dark?

It seemed entirely possible. He breathed in deeply, aiming for a calming breath, but the scent of her surrounded him, impossibly making things worse.

Fingers lightly brushed his forehead and he sucked in a shocked breath. They were gone in an instant. ‘Is that intolerable?’ she whispered.

‘It was fine,’ he managed to get out. ‘I was not expecting it, even though you said. Do go on.’ He might die if she didn’t.

Fingers stole into his hair, firm and confident. His back arched at the decadent pleasure of it. No one had stroked his hair before and he realised he’d been missing out for his whole life. It was utter bliss.

‘Comfortable?’ she asked softly.

He made a noise he hoped sounded like a yes, because he was beyond speech.

‘Good,’ she said, her voice low in the darkness.

She continued to move her fingers around his scalp. His shoulders began to sink into the bed. He closed his eyes, listening to her steady breath. Without doing it consciously, he realised he had matched her rhythm.

‘I want you to concentrate on your heels,’ she said softly. ‘Think about how they are pressing into the mattress.’

He half-debated opening his mouth to protest at the absurd idea, but his mind was moving sluggishly and he could not summon the energy to speak.

Instead, he did as she suggested, following her words as she told him to focus on the soles of his feet, his toes, the backs of his calves.

He was half-intrigued what she would do when she got to his waist, but he never found out.

By the time she reached his knees, his world had turned black.