She was still quite naked when she got into bed, leaving him to bathe in the remaining water. He kept his eyes on her as he stripped off his clothing. Though she pretended to be immune to his charms, Madeline nevertheless bunched the sheets up in such a manner as to allow her to look upon his naked form.
He was magnificent. He removed his leggings first and she saw that his legs were muscled and hard all the way to his rounded posterior shaped like that of some pagan god. When he removed his doublet and shirt her quim began to pulse of its own accord. His manhood hung thick and long between his thighs, but it was his torso that truly took her breath away. His hips were slim and his abdomen was furred and toned, but his shoulders were broad and his chest was spectacularly formed with slabs of muscle bigger than her head. Sir Gregory was far more imposing without his clothes than with them. Madeline could not stop herself from staring, her roaming eye taking him in over and over again until he sat in the bath and just his knees and shoulders were exposed.
“You know I can see you, princess,” he drawled as he began to wash himself. “You may look upon me without shame. We are betrothed.”
Madeline made no reply, for she was not going to admit her carnal curiosity. She was so deeply affected by her reaction to his body that it scared her. He had filled her head with wanton thoughts so torrid she could barely have stood to look herself in the eye. She chose to cover her face and listen as he washed. She could imagine the water beading on his skin, trailing down over the planes of his muscles in a slow trickling torrent. Keep reading…