Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) by Sasha Gold Page A

setting them on the fireplace, and pulled his tie fiercely to loosen it.
    She went on. “I wasn’t certain what I meant to you.” Her breath caught in her throat. Could he say the words to her, the words she’d never heard from his lips or read in any letter from him? Wasn’t it his place to say those particular words first, and to say them on this particular night?
    Luke crossed the room and grasped her shoulders. The fire in his eyes dwindled to a gentle warmth. “You mean everything to me, Esme,” he whispered. “Everyone knows that.”
    Esme blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, filled her eyes, but she willed them away. Crying now would make her feel more foolish and vulnerable. He lifted her chin and set a chaste kiss upon her lips as he cupped her face with his hands. Esme wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tightened his embrace, deepening the kiss. She responded to him with her own hungering need. He hadn’t said the words she wanted to hear, but did it even matter? Her hurt feelings unraveled a little more with each caress.
    Slowly, gently, he undressed her. He teased her about a bride wearing a girl’s debutante dress. She was tentative at first, then Esme unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her fingertips across the expanse of his shoulders. Luke drew in a sharp breath at her touch, and picked her up to carry her to bed.
    The cool sheets of his bed chilled her bared skin as Luke drew her close, pulling the quilt over them. Esme trembled in his arms as her heart pounded.
    “Anyone ever tell you about this business between a man and a woman?” His voice was gruff, and his breath on her neck made her skin tighten with goose bumps.
    The word business made it sound like a transaction at a bank, and she recalled her mother’s stern lectures about this topic. According to Rosalind Duval, the business was one of two things: either the temptation of the flesh to be assiduously avoided by innocent girls, or the obligation to be fulfilled by a long-suffering wife.
    Esme pulled the sheets closer around her naked body. “My mother always told me it’s a wife’s duty.”
    Luke made a soft response of surprise as he kissed her neck and tugged the sheet from her clenched fingers.
    “And that it wasn’t as painful as childbirth,” she continued.
    Luke stilled and then lifted his head to look into her eyes. Esme could see the worry in his expression.
    “But the good news was,” Esme added, “Most of the time it was over in less than five minutes.”
    Luke’s eyes widened with surprise. He propped his head in his hand and a slow grin spread across his face. “Five whole minutes?”
    Esme tried to push him away. “Stop laughing. From what I overheard from some of your neighbors, you’ve made more than one or two business transactions yourself. Maybe you should tell me what you know.”
    “I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to show you. You’re still shaking like a leaf even though you’re getting mad at me all over again. Nolan bought champagne. I think we need to drink a little to settle your nerves.”
    Esme gasped when he threw the covers back, and strode across the room to a small table where a bottle of champagne rested in a bucket filled with ice. She laughed watching him wrestle with the bottle while he wore nothing but a pair of linen trunks.
    “Is this the type of cork that needs a corkscrew or not?”
    Esme laughed softly. “Just pull the cork out, Luke.”
    Luke glanced at the bottle’s label. “Hell, this stuff is from France.”
    “Of course it’s French. Nolan has good taste.” She looked down at her ring and noticed how the diamonds glittered in the candlelight.
    The champagne was cool and crisp. Esme sat on the edge of the bed wrapped in the quilt, while Luke stood beside her, taking pins from her hair between sips of champagne. He told her what a beautiful bride she was, and how lucky he was to have her as his wife, and Esme, emboldened by the champagne, told him how