A Perfect Match (The Cricket Club Book 1) by Margaux Thorne

Author:Margaux Thorne [Thorne, Margaux]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2024-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

If it took Myfanwy forever just to work up the nerve to join Samuel on the bed, she made up for it by getting his trousers off in a hurry. He was incredibly helpful in that endeavor. The order wasn’t even fully out of her mouth and his hands were already working on his front buttons. She wanted to help him glide the fabric down his legs, but Samuel completed the task in no time. However, the end result left something to be desired.

For some reason, Myfanwy assumed his undergarments would be short, cut off before the knee, but they were sadly long and white and covering the entire area she needed to massage. They were essentially trousers underneath his trousers.

They both stared entirely too long at his nether regions. Myfanwy made a clicking sound with her tongue, feeling panic begin to bubble in her chest. She didn’t know how much longer her cavalier act would hold. Kissing him would solve all of this. Samuel didn’t think as much when he was busy kissing her, and she was less anxious. But Myfanwy hadn’t intended to storm into his room and debauch him—not at first, anyway. A selfless act was her goal. And Samuel’s layers were getting in the way.

“You weren’t supposed to be wearing those,” she remarked.

“I wasn’t?” Myfanwy could hear the amusement in Samuel’s voice.

She plucked at his undergarments. “The fabric is thin, but I don’t think the tincture will absorb into your skin unless you’re…um… Well, you’re…” Myfanwy cast a hopeless look at the hearth, thinking it must be blazing for her to feel so uncomfortable, only to realize that Samuel hadn’t bothered to light a fire that night.

“Naked?” he finished.

“Quite.”

Samuel shifted further up the bed. She couldn’t look at him. Her embarrassment was as cloying and sticky as toffee pudding. “Myfanwy,” he said gently over her head. “I don’t need you to massage my leg. It hurts, yes, but I just have to deal with it. Nothing ever helps, so I’ve found it’s always best to just get through it.”

Not good enough! Thoughts jumbled together in her mind. Samuel took care of so much, and yet he was so alone. Whoever took care of him? Whoever put him first?

The bed sank lower as he tried to inch away from her, but Myfanwy slapped her hand on his chest—his very naked chest. “No,” she stated firmly—as firm as the muscles under her fingers. He hadn’t played proper cricket in a few years, but one couldn’t tell from his upper half. Well-formed and lithe, Samuel’s body had the sculpted, chiseled look of something cut from rock, all angles and sharp points, shaped expertly and pulled tight against the bone. He didn’t have much hair on his chest, and what he did have was so light in color that it barely registered. Myfanwy held her fingers firmly against his skin, so she didn’t play with the small curls.

“I will look away while you take off your undergarments,” she said officiously.

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