Page 111 of Kathryn

She sounded so vulnerable that it shook him from his daze. He looked at her beautiful face and struggled to leash the joy leaping inside him like an exuberant puppy. “You want to remain at Briarly?” he asked, sounding harsh and cold to his own ears.

“It’s not Briarly, Gerrit. I want to be where you are.” The last three words were scarcely a whisper.

He knew his jaw had sagged and he probably looked even uglier than usual with such a stupefied look on his face, but he suddenly didn’t care. He nodded slowly, holding her gaze. “Yes, I would like that. A great deal.”

“Truly?” she squealed.

Gerrit almost laughed. “Truly.”

“Good. Good—that’s, I’m—” She gave a breathy chuckle. “Thank God.” She lowered her gaze before him, the submissive gesture arrowing straight to his cock.

Gerrit took her chin and turned her to meet his gaze. The dominating, controlling bastard that lived inside him gorged on her squirming and blushing. “As to your question from earlier—about having you in my bed.”

“Oh, yes?”

“The pleasure of feeling you next to me, and of talking to you, far outweighs any discomfort engendered by a new situation. That is my honest answer.” He released her chin, but she did not turn away.

Instead, she caught his hand and held it. “Thank you.”

He nodded, too disoriented by the pleasurable press of her slender fingers on his beastly paw to speak.

“Will you tell me something?” she asked, lightly stroking his palm.

He would never have believed there was a direct connection between his palm and cock.

“Gerrit?”

“Er, I beg your pardon—what did you want me to tell you?”

“Just… something. Something about you.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I am trying to get to know you.”

For the first time he could remember, his mind was blank. A complete and utter blank.

Kathryn laughed. “Come now! It cannot be that difficult to tell me something about yourself?”

“I am glad you came to the dig today.”

Her face softened. “Thank you.”

“And I am glad we are married,” he said, surprising both of them.

Her eyes became dangerously glassy. “Oh. That’s—that’s lovely.” She gave a watery laugh. “But it is not really something about you, is it? But I like it, all the same. I like it very much.”

Gerrit allowed himself to revel a bit in her approval. “I will try to think of something interesting to tell you, er, tomorrow night.”

She laughed again and squeezed his hand.

He plucked at her dressing gown, which was, he suspected, all she wore. “I want to take this off you,” he said, done with talking.

Thankfully, she nodded, and he slid the garment from her shoulders and then tugged it from beneath her, hesitating a moment before dropping it off the bed.

Kathryn pulled the sheet up to cover her chest. “It bothers you to leave that on the floor, doesn’t it?”

Were his thoughts really so transparent? That should worry him more than it did. “Bother is too strong—but I do get a queasy twinge when there is disorganization or clutter.”