Page 26 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

She wanted him, and God Almighty, he wanted her.

But all Griffin could manage was a harsh growl as his fingertips dragged down her cheek to her jaw. “Ye have a son.”

As if she needed a reminder.

She was no stranger to intimacy, is that what he meant? What she meant. Was she…asking him for a liaison? Sure as shite sounded like it.

Unable to help himself, his touch dragged to her throat. Under his fingertips, her pulse fluttered.

“I want to experiment, Griffin,” she whispered. “With you. I want to understand this…these feelings.”

“What feelings?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but she didn’t flinch from his bark.

When she swallowed, he felt it. “Being around you… You make me warm—no, hot. I throb. I yearn.”

“I’m a simple man, Flick. Speak plainly.”

“I’m trying.”

His lips twitched. “Nay, ye’re using metaphors. Ye sound like one of those naughty penny dreadfuls the lads used to pass around at school. Yearn, throb. Next ye’ll be speaking of yer core and mighty lances and moist sheaths and pert nipples.”

Did ye really just mention nipples to a woman who invited ye for tea?

She was holding her breath again, so he assumed she hadn’t minded.

“I have read those books, yes,” she agreed carefully. “You are saying not to use such language?”

“No one likes the word moist, Flick.”

Her lips curled into a reluctant smile, and she blew out a breath. “I suspect you are teasing me—”

“Never.” His fingers pressed against the hollow at the base of her throat for a moment. He had no right to touch her so intimately, but couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“I want you, Griffin Calderbank,” she said clearly, meeting his gaze, “to teach me about the pleasures of the flesh.”

Had he thought pet was an intriguing word on her lips? Flesh went right to his cock, which was indeed throbbing. “Metaphors, Flick,” he growled.

Was that the slightest roll of her eyes? A delicate huff of irritation as she reached up and pulled the kitten to her chest once more? “I want you to make love to me.”

“Make love?”

Well hell, he was teasing her now, wasn’t he? But the other option was actually thinking about the offer she’d just made, and frankly, his cock was hard enough as it was. Certainly harder than an invitation to tea should’ve provoked.

To his surprise—why was he surprised by anything this woman did any longer?—she stepped closer. Closer. Holding a cat, his fingers pressed against her throat, and she stepped closer, until the feline was trapped between them, and her lips were inches from his.

She knew what she wanted, and he admired that. Why wouldn’t he?

“Sex, Griffin,” Felicity whispered. “I want you to make me orgasm. I think you can.”

Dear. Christ. Almighty.

Make her orgasm? In that moment, he wanted nothing more. He wanted to fook her in every way, make her scream his name.

But…she was his neighbor. A nuisance in his life. Someone whose stubbornness put his children at risk.

Besides, the cat was objecting to being squished.

So he pressed his fingertips against her skin once more, trying to imprint the sensation of her skin against his in his mind, then pulled his hand away and stepped back. “And what will ye give me in return?”

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