She gently pried herself free from his grasp. He let her go. The room immediately grew colder. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and looked up at her. “It’s getting late,” she whispered. “I know.” He levered himself up on one elbow and watched her get to her feet. Her hair was wildly tousled. Her stockings had come free of the garters and were draped around her ankles. The top of the chemise was crumpled at her waist. Her face and breasts were still flushed. He felt his senses stir. “You look delicious,” he said. “Good enough to eat. I believe I’m working up an appetite.” “There will probably be some muffins left in the kitchen,” she said very seriously. She pulled the chemise up over her breasts. “Unless your nephews ate all of them.” He smiled and got to his feet. “I had another dish in mind. But it’s getting late.
