Chapter Thirty-Four
“I do wish,” Primrose said. She undid the two buttons. Her heartbeat accelerated as the drawers fell open.
Oliver’s organ wasn’t hairy. That was her first surprise. It was surrounded by a thick thatch of dark hair, but the thing itself was quite smooth. Strong, sturdy, sleek, blunt-headed.
The second surprise was its color. It wasn’t the color of his skin, or the color of his n*****s. It was . . . She searched for a word. Rubicund? Rubescent?
Oliver lifted his haunches to help her peel the drawers off, exposing another terrible bruise on his hip, and then he was naked. Absolutely naked.
Primrose feasted her eyes on his body—and on his groin in particular—and then lifted her gaze to his face.
He was watching her again, waiting for her reaction.
“Classical statues
