And if she were being honest with herself, she actually liked being tucked into his side. “In the morning can we stop for supplies?”
“I should say no,” he said.
Her gaze snapped up to his. Was he angry with her? But his eyes were gentle. “Why is that?”
“You’re not going to be my wife. Remember?”
She was still in the circle of his arms. And she’d blame that, but she honestly, in this moment, wondered if she really should have turned down his offer. She didn’t want to marry, did she?
The soft sighs of Avery’s breathing brushed over Noah’s cheek, her warmth seeping into his side. He’d barely convinced her to strip off her gown and sleep in her shift.
Noah had stripped down to his shirt and breeches and it had taken another five minutes to coerce her into snuggling up to him in this state of half dress. But he finally had.
And he grinned to himself. He didn’t mind the effort of cajoling her. In fact, it was fun. Women had fallen into his bed with such ease, her challenge intrigued him.
To be honest, all of Avery intrigued him.
From her large eyes, to her wounded childhood, to the iron she used to fortify her spine and face the world, she was amazing.
His fingers brushed up and down her back as she breathed evenly and deeply.
He wasn’t supposed to care for this woman. Not caring had been why he’d chosen her.
But today, he realized, he already did.
So, when she’d informed him that she didn’t wish to marry, he’d joked about being a rake rather than attempting to convince her otherwise. Perhaps she was right. Maybe a match between them was a bad idea.
Not that he’d escape the marriage. He’d made a bargain with a duke. But if he were going to remain emotionally detached, he’d best proceed with care. Which was likely why this sleeping arrangement was an awful idea.
Because she fit against him so perfectly and her scent wrapped about him like another blanket and…he sighed. He had the distinct urge to hold her like this forever.
Her fingers, resting on his chest, curled into his shirt. She murmured something in her sleep.
He flattened his hand on her back in a gesture of comfort to let her know she was safe. In response, her knee bent and her leg pushed up over his hips, resting across them. Directly on his shaft.
He groaned softly. The woman was trying to torture him.
That wasn’t true. He was torturing himself. This had been his idea.
But her supple flesh teased him even as she shifted closer and flexed her hips, bringing her center in contact with the side of his leg.
His teeth ground together as he resisted the urge to slide his hand down to her rear and bring her even closer.
When she was awake, she’d been abundantly clear that she didn’t wish to have any sort of relations, physical or otherwise.
She let out a little whimper and then flexed again, her breath catching as she gripped his chest tighter.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d just determined that it was better that he leave her be. Maintain distance until after they were married and then… Well then, he’d figure out how to keep barriers between them. But taking her maidenhead before their wedding invited an emotional bond that he didn’t wish to have.
The thought actually put a smile on his face.
What kind of rake was he, anyhow?
But he’d not leave Avery with his child prior to their wedding… Then all thought stopped.
The very idea of Avery carrying his baby started an ache in his chest as his ribs tightened in the strangest way. He’d never experienced anything like it, never even considered conception with any other woman.
She flexed again, adding a swirl and moaning louder, her hand sliding down his chest toward his staff.
He reached for her hand, holding it in place as she rubbed again. Would she wake if she finished? Would she understand what had happened?
It was sweet torture that he didn’t mind, but how would he explain it to her? He had no choice. Pushing her leg from his hips, he slid off the bed.
She woke with a jolt, her head lifting as she stared into the darkness. “What’s wrong?”
He gave a wolfish smile into the dark. At least that’s what he imagined it looked like. Words he shouldn’t say pushed to the front of his mouth. Absolutely nothing other than I’ve been contemplating making love to you. “I was thirsty. Sorry to wake you.”
She pushed into a half-sitting position, her braid falling loosely over her shoulder, looking, for all the world, like a siren. “It’s all right,” she murmured sleepily.
His staff was raging hard again, but she didn’t seem to notice this time. He poured himself a glass from the pitcher on the side table and took a swallow, attempting to cool the heat rushing through his veins.
“I was having the strangest dream,” she said, laying her head back down, stretching on the bed. “You were there and…”
She stopped talking but he grinned into the rim of the glass. “Was I? What did we do?”
“We were swimming.” She turned over on her back, her arms over her head. His grin disappeared as he stared down at her, every muscle in his body wanted to pounce on the invitation she was silently issuing. “And the water was warm and then it was a bath. You know how that happens in dreams.”
“Tell me more,” he said, setting down the glass and climbing into the bed. He could picture the two of them in a bath, her body slick with water, sliding against his. He had to take several deep breaths to force his body back under control. As he lay down, he was careful not to touch her, which meant he was clinging to the very edge of the mattress.
“You said something about rakes. Much like you did in the carriage. That you could show me—” She stopped, her arms coming back to
