For as scandalous as Gray spoke in the first two books, he was rather serious in his own. I guess that’s what happens when you quickly gain a wife you were never expecting to have and be accused of crimes you never committed. But, never fear, there is no way that Gray can be serious for any extended length of time and when left alone to their own devices on the riverbank, the two must…*gasp*…talk. And so begins the list of nonsense questions:
“Is it my turn to ask questions now?”
“No. I have a few more.” He edged closer to her, if such a thing were possible. “Spiders or snakes?”
She shuddered. “Neither and I mean it.”
He chuckled. “Pick one.”
“A spider. At least I can smash it.”
His chest rumbled with another chuckle. “Horseback or carriage?”
“Carriage,” she said without hesitancy.
“Wes or Jack.”
She dropped her jaw in half-feigned outrage and disbelief and twisted her neck and upper body around enough so she could see his handsome, grinning face. “I can’t answer that.”
“Yes, you can,” he goaded.
“Jack. He’s my brother-in-law.”
“So you’d choose him by default,” he surmised, still grinning.
No, I’d choose you, you fool. She started to turn back around but froze, both of their eyes dropping down to where Gray’s hand now rested on her arm with his entire palm pressing right against her breast. They’d both been so caught up in the moment and her reaction to his provoking answer neither had noticed the new position of their bodies when she twisted in his hold.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, flushing a violent crimson and moving his hand away.
She turned back to the way she’d been sitting before, uncertain. His reaction had seemed a little extreme. “It was just an accident.”
“I should have been more careful.” His hoarse words made her heart hurt and before she could convince herself to just let this awkward moment pass, she reached for both of his hands and placed them squarely on her full breasts.
“Now you don’t have to be.” Her blood pounded loudly in her ears at her own bravery, mixing with the tingles that shot through her body from where his hands covered her swollen breasts. What had she just done? She dropped her hands, his frozen where she’d put them, a feather-light touch.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained, lowering his hands to her abdomen.
“You weren’t.” A new sense of understanding came over her as a memory of that horrific night flashed in her mind. She closed her eyes and a newer memory took hold: their wedding night. He’d been very careful with her. He hadn’t asked her to take off her chemise nor had he touched her very much, especially not her breasts. In fact, it almost seemed as if he’d taken great care not to touch her there. She frowned. “Gray, do you not like breasts?”
Gray developed an extreme coughing fit. “Of all the questions in the world to ask me, that’s the first one you chose?”