Page 16 of To Steal a Lyon’s Heart (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #85)

H is prick worked. He hadn’t questioned it before since a man can wake up in the morning with a standing cock for no reason at all other than to greet the day.

But it was long past that when Daisy came to his door.

His heart had started pounding at the sound of her knock.

Her hesitation only heightened the anticipation, and his blood heated, surging toward his cock.

When she’d entered, looking as prim and nervous as a nun in her white dress, his ardor had cooled.

But she was still beautiful, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she’d grudgingly approached the bed.

Now she was touching his feet, and thank heavens he didn’t enjoy pain with his bed sport, because the searing sensation caused by elevating his leg in her small, soft hands was the only thing keeping his cock in line.

He should cover his lap, just in case, but that would look just as suspicious.

He’d bet his fortune she wouldn’t know the sight of a stiff cock in breeches, but he wasn’t about to introduce her to the image. Her future husband might fall short of Alston’s impressive example of manhood, and then she’d live the remainder of her life in disappointment.

The idea of her future husband worked wonders.

But not in the way he anticipated. The unknown man already annoyed him.

Who would be deserving of this stunning, ripe peach?

No one, not if he had anything to say about it.

Just looking at her now, he could see that her experience with the opposite gender was nonexistent.

She couldn’t stop blushing. Not that she should be comfortable sitting in a man’s bed, but given the circumstances, this was hardly a titillating situation.

His weak constitution all but gelded him.

She couldn’t be safer if she were tending to an old aunt.

The muscles that screamed in his leg for relief finally relaxed. “All right, now I will bend my knee and straighten it. But I want you to push back against me to keep me from straightening my leg fully.”

“All right. I’ll need to move closer.” She hugged his foot to her breast as she scooted her bottom toward him, and bloody hell, his cock went right to full alert.

Sam winced and hugged a pillow to his stomach, effectively covering his groin.

She set his foot in her lap and placed her warm hands over it. “Did that hurt?”

He nodded. “But it’s fine. I knew this wouldn’t be pleasant.”

“Well, I didn’t,” she muttered. “I feel like I’m torturing you.”

“It’s all part of the process. It will get better. That’s how we’ll know it’s working.” He had no idea if that was true, but it sounded reasonable to him.

She nodded and lifted his foot, twisting toward him as he bent his stiff knee. He pushed back, and she leaned into him, providing the resistance.

Bloody hell, it hurt, and it was hard. He was a man in his prime.

He should be able to shove her off the bed with one foot, but in this state, he couldn’t tip a teapot.

After a few more repetitions they moved on to the next leg, and her nearness no longer made him want to bust a seam in his breeches.

Almost. This time she turned to face him, sitting on her heels.

His foot rested on her thighs as she massaged the sole of his foot.

He bit back a groan. Those fingers of hers were doing wonders.

She raised his leg, and he bent his knee, breathing hard as his joints and muscles protested.

Before his accident, he was athletic and fit, but he’d never had to work for it.

Not like this. Never again would he take his strength and agility for granted.

He longed for the afternoons he’d spent at Gentlemen Jackson’s.

Or fencing against Blakewood. Even dancing.

He just wanted to move his body and to see how the world had changed outside of this room.

Everything had changed.

Just looking at Daisy reminded him of that fact. They’d repeated the exercise on both legs once more, and she’d developed a sheen of sweat on her brow and her loose chignon had dropped, leaving tendrils of red around her face.

“What’s next?” she huffed as she brushed her loose hair out of her face. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and her lips were rosy. Sam’s gut tightened as he took in her disheveled beauty.

“That’s enough for now.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Can’t be too hasty, can we? Besides, Miss Smith will return soon with my lunch. Amelia and Blakewood will be joining me, and I’m assuming you’re invited, too. It’s best to appear as if we have not yet been reacquainted.”

“Oh,” her face fell. “That makes sense.”

Sam braced himself to sit forward. “But once we are officially reacquainted, it will be easier for you to come and go freely without them.”

She brightened. “That reminds me. I brought a book. I wanted to offer to read to you, if that was something you’d want. It sounds childish now that I say it out loud.”

“Nonsense. Amelia read to me even while I was unconscious.”

She smiled at him, and his heart pulsed with warmth.

For once, blood didn’t rush to his cock, but her smile went to his head, which might be more dangerous.

He cleared his throat, pulling his gaze from her.

She got on all fours and shuffled off the bed ungracefully, but the sight was still somehow erotic to his depraved mind.

He’d been too long without a woman—that was the problem.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it right now except take himself in hand, but that would have to wait.