Temporary Husband by Day Leclaire

mist, clinging for a moment as it caressed the pure, graceful curves of her body before swirling away. But one detail stopped him dead in his tracks…the damned thing was white. Stark white. Snow white. Unadulterated, unsullied, virginal white, the color as untainted as the woman who wore it. Three men, he struggled to remind himself. She’d said three men. He shook his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
    Because once they’d touched her, how the hell could they have walked away?
    She moved into the room. Light from the bedside table threw her body into silhouette, almost bringing him to his knees. It was the most erotic sight he’d ever beheld, crippling in its impact. For such a little thing, her figure was all woman. She had a narrow waist that flared into sweetly rounded hips, her backside exhibiting just the right amount of curve. Her breasts shifted beneath her nightgown, the nipples dark shadows that pearled before his eyes. With a muttered exclamation, he forced his attention upward and away from temptation.
    She stood quietly, staring at him, her eyes huge and wary, her hair tousled and damp from her shower. He didn’t say a word, but simply held out his hand. After a momentary hesitation, she slipped her fingers into his.
    “I see why you wanted to wear this instead of a robe,” he said, his voice husky with need. “It’s very provocative.”
    “Really?” She glanced down, her brows drawn together. “I always thought it rather modest.”
    He chuckled. “Your idea of modest must differ from mine.” He reached for her, running his index finger along the curve of her breast, pausing at the peak to draw lazy circles around the rigid tip.
    Her head jerked upward and she stared at him, her eyes enormous, the green turning as dark as a shadowdraped forest. She moistened her lips. “Could we turn off the lights?” she requested anxiously.
    “The lights stay on. I want to see you when we make love.”
    She didn’t argue, but some of the color ebbed from her face. “I didn’t expect to feel this nervous,” she confessed. “But I can’t seem to stop shaking. Are you sure we can’t turn off the lights? Just this once?”
    His mouth tightened and he left her for a moment, flicking the switch on the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness, relieved only by the faint illumination from a fast sinking moon. “Better?”
    “Much, thank you.” She drifted across the room, the conspicuous white of her nightgown marking her progress. “Should I…should I get into bed?”
    He bit back a caustic comeback, aware that something was out of kilter, but too hard-ridden by desire to analyze what it might be. “Sure. Get into bed if it makes you more comfortable.”
    “Actually I’m thirsty,” she said, veering toward the bathroom. “I think I’d like some—”
    He blocked her path, catching her off guard. She looked at him, startled, and her breath came swift and uneven. He didn’t hesitate, but took her mouth in a demanding kiss. He felt, rather than heard, her small murmur of protest. She stiffened, not quite fighting him, but not responding as she had at the Montagues’.
    He lifted his head and stared down at her. “Relax,” he murmured, stroking his thumb along the tender curve of her cheek. “You want this as much as I do.”
    “I thought I did,” she said, a tiny catch robbing the certainty from her voice. “I seem to be having second thoughts.”
    “You won’t for long.”
    His mouth dropped over hers once again and he molded her closer, exploring the shapely curves beneath the thin cotton nightgown. If he’d had any lingering qualms about taking advantage of her, they vanished, dissolving beneath his desperate need to possess the woman in his arms. She belonged to him now, and he meant to take what was his.
    He released the buttons fastening the bodice of her nightgown and swept the material from her shoulders, baring her to his intent gaze. Moonlight lanced