summon Ashley if—”
“I need my clothes,” she cut in before he rambled on any further. “I can do this on my own.”
“Let me fetch your chemise.”
Anthony swiftly collected her undergarment from the privy. He should have considered such sensitivities, he rebuked himself. Why hadn’t Ashley reminded him? But with so much hectic energy already coursing through the household, certain details in Sabrina’s recovery were bound to be overlooked.
He laid the chemise atop her blanketed legs. “Can you sit up?”
“I think so.”
With the bed sheets pressed tight to her chest, she struggled to raise her head, and he slipped a supportive hand behind her neck to aid in her efforts.
Ah, the feel of her warm skin cradled against his palm, damp from pressing up against his pillow. She was so soft. He would bet his legacy she was just as soft in other places too…maybe even softer.
The lascivious image of his fingers trailing over the full swell of a magnificent breast invaded his mind with startling intensity. He could just feel the supple flesh cupped in his hand, his fingers kneading and caressing, his thumb swirling over the silky smooth patch of her rosy nipple, fast hardening under his solicitous touch.
He shuddered faintly, banishing the erotic fantasy before the slow stirrings of his cock grew more rampant.
Sabrina closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. His fingers were still entangled in the unruly locks of her ebony hair, holding her upright, so she didn’t tip to any side in a bout of faintness.
“I’m not dizzy anymore.” She lifted her lashes. “I can dress myself.”
He didn’t voice his doubts over her conviction. Rather, he put them to the test, and withdrew his hand from her neck. When she didn’t topple over, he stepped away from the bed.
“I’ll be by the window should you need my assistance.”
As she reached for her chemise, he turned on his heels and made his way over to one of the tall panes of glass, giving her his back and subsequently her privacy.
He too needed some time, but to regain his scattered wits. How had lust overtaken him so swiftly just a moment ago? He had never experienced anything like it before, where the mere touch of a woman had kindled his desire. And it was unnerving to think it took so little effort to stir his blood, especially where Sabrina was concerned, for she just happened to be the one woman in the world whom he could never be with. He may be a degenerate, with a propensity for lifting a wanton woman’s skirt, but he was not wholly without a sense of honor. Having Sabrina under his protection meant he had to guard her against all danger—including the danger of his predatory self.
Anthony didn’t notice any of the estate through the draped sheers, his mind too engrossed with detecting Sabrina’s movements. There were a few sighs and muttered remarks as she grappled with her garment, but so long as he could hear her, then he knew she was all right. And it was after a few combatant moments that her apparel seemed to be in place, for he next heard the rustle of bed sheets and the mattress shifting under her weight.
“May I turn around now?” he asked.
At the sound of her gasp, he pivoted, and found her clutching the bedpost for support. He was at her side in an instant, arms circling around her shoulders to keep her from slumping onto the floor. She sagged into his chest, and he sensed the shudder rip through her limbs, vibrating against his own.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” her words clipped. “You’re holding me too tight.” And she braced her palms flat against his chest to push him back.
The pressure of her fingers digging into his body had the most disarming effect on him. The blood quickened through his veins. His heart thumped with awakened vigor. His grip tightened around her in possessive instinct.
There was a heavenly weight pushing against him in the form of a bountiful pair of breasts. Each deep breath she inhaled
“I need my clothes,” she cut in before he rambled on any further. “I can do this on my own.”
“Let me fetch your chemise.”
Anthony swiftly collected her undergarment from the privy. He should have considered such sensitivities, he rebuked himself. Why hadn’t Ashley reminded him? But with so much hectic energy already coursing through the household, certain details in Sabrina’s recovery were bound to be overlooked.
He laid the chemise atop her blanketed legs. “Can you sit up?”
“I think so.”
With the bed sheets pressed tight to her chest, she struggled to raise her head, and he slipped a supportive hand behind her neck to aid in her efforts.
Ah, the feel of her warm skin cradled against his palm, damp from pressing up against his pillow. She was so soft. He would bet his legacy she was just as soft in other places too…maybe even softer.
The lascivious image of his fingers trailing over the full swell of a magnificent breast invaded his mind with startling intensity. He could just feel the supple flesh cupped in his hand, his fingers kneading and caressing, his thumb swirling over the silky smooth patch of her rosy nipple, fast hardening under his solicitous touch.
He shuddered faintly, banishing the erotic fantasy before the slow stirrings of his cock grew more rampant.
Sabrina closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. His fingers were still entangled in the unruly locks of her ebony hair, holding her upright, so she didn’t tip to any side in a bout of faintness.
“I’m not dizzy anymore.” She lifted her lashes. “I can dress myself.”
He didn’t voice his doubts over her conviction. Rather, he put them to the test, and withdrew his hand from her neck. When she didn’t topple over, he stepped away from the bed.
“I’ll be by the window should you need my assistance.”
As she reached for her chemise, he turned on his heels and made his way over to one of the tall panes of glass, giving her his back and subsequently her privacy.
He too needed some time, but to regain his scattered wits. How had lust overtaken him so swiftly just a moment ago? He had never experienced anything like it before, where the mere touch of a woman had kindled his desire. And it was unnerving to think it took so little effort to stir his blood, especially where Sabrina was concerned, for she just happened to be the one woman in the world whom he could never be with. He may be a degenerate, with a propensity for lifting a wanton woman’s skirt, but he was not wholly without a sense of honor. Having Sabrina under his protection meant he had to guard her against all danger—including the danger of his predatory self.
Anthony didn’t notice any of the estate through the draped sheers, his mind too engrossed with detecting Sabrina’s movements. There were a few sighs and muttered remarks as she grappled with her garment, but so long as he could hear her, then he knew she was all right. And it was after a few combatant moments that her apparel seemed to be in place, for he next heard the rustle of bed sheets and the mattress shifting under her weight.
“May I turn around now?” he asked.
At the sound of her gasp, he pivoted, and found her clutching the bedpost for support. He was at her side in an instant, arms circling around her shoulders to keep her from slumping onto the floor. She sagged into his chest, and he sensed the shudder rip through her limbs, vibrating against his own.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” her words clipped. “You’re holding me too tight.” And she braced her palms flat against his chest to push him back.
The pressure of her fingers digging into his body had the most disarming effect on him. The blood quickened through his veins. His heart thumped with awakened vigor. His grip tightened around her in possessive instinct.
There was a heavenly weight pushing against him in the form of a bountiful pair of breasts. Each deep breath she inhaled
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