Trouble With Harry by Katie MacAlister Page A

please.”
    â€œâ€”Harry, but I can assure you it wouldn’t have sent me screaming into the night had you told me before we were wed. Indeed, the fact that you were baring your secrets to me might have induced me to bare a few of my own.”
    â€œWould it?” Harry said, his gaze dropping to the thin lawn of her night rail where it covered her breasts, breasts that were brazenly pushing themselves forward and clamoring for her to walk them into his hands. “And what secrets could a woman such as you have to bare?”
    It was the word bare in combination with the avid way he eyed her breasts that sent the few wits remaining her flying straight out of her head. “Oh…I’m sure I have some…”
    â€œYes, yes you do have some. You have lovely some.” Harry’s eyes glittered brightly as he looked at her breasts.
    Plum frowned down at them, unsure whether she should affect maidenly mortification about the fact that her nipples were hard little pebbles against the soft linen, clearly outlined, right there for anyone to see, or to indulge in the wanton thrill of knowing Harry could stir such a reaction in her as to set her ablaze with the need to rub herself all over him. She decided that although the maidenly route was probably for the best, wanton was closer to her true nature. At least she could be an honest wanton. She took a step closer to him. “I assure you I have secrets, Harry. In particular, I have one secret. I was married—”
    The words dried up on her lips as he—still staring at her breasts much in the manner of a starving man deposited at a feast—spread the fingers of his left hand and gently cupped her right breast.
    â€œYes, you told me you were married, and if you will recall, I told you that your past was of no concern to me.”
    A tremor of heat rippled through Plum, starting at her breast and ending at her womanly parts, which were now tingling for all they were worth. She closed her eyes and shuddered with pleasure, her back arching of its own accord, pressing her breast hard against his hand.
    â€œAre you cold?” Harry asked hoarsely.
    She opened her eyes as he rubbed his thumb across her aching nipple. “No. Not cold. Hot. Very hot.”
    â€œHot, yes, so hot, I can feel your heat. I wonder if your other—” Plum moaned as he placed his right hand on her other breast. “You are very hot. Feverish, almost. I believe the best thing for you would to be freed of the restriction of clothing.”
    â€œDo you think so? Do you think that might help my…fever?” Plum ignored the fact that she was babbling like an idiot, too overwhelmed with desire and lust and a variety of other emotions all related somehow to the wonderful tingling going on in her breasts and nether parts.
    â€œI do, I do indeed believe it will help. As your husband, it is my duty to see to your welfare, thus I must demand that for the purpose of your continued good health, you remove your night rail.”
    What a wonderful man! How thoughtful he was! How concerned he was for her health. “Oh,” she breathed, thoroughly enjoying how her breasts moved against the palms of his hands.
    Harry’s eyes widened behind his spectacles. “NOW!”
    â€œOh!”
    His hands still warm on her breasts, he leaned forward, his hair brushing her jaw as he kissed a hot trail along her collarbone, down to the top of the night rail where the pretty rose ribbon held the garment up. She breathed in the scent of him, part lemon shaving soap, part something earthy and arousing, and entirely male that was solely Harry.
    â€œI will be happy to assist you if you are unable to disrobe by yourself.”
    Plum looked down to where Harry was pulling away from her, one end of the ribbon clenched firmly in his teeth. “This is wicked, you know, utterly and wholly wicked. We have only known each other for two days, and we’re about