Page 66 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

And Felicity hurried to obey him.

Chapter 12

Felicity’s heart was pounding loudly enough she thought she could hear it, which she was fairly certain was a medical impossibility. Or a sign of an emergency.

Yes, an emergency! Get on the bed!

She all but fell across the counterpane, then flipped over on her back to watch him undress. He yanked his shirt from his torso, then bent to slide his trousers and smalls off…and when he straightened, she sucked in a breath.

Here in the Highlands, even in the summer, the nights were chilly. There was a small fire set in the old-fashioned hearth and—even with a few old-fashioned candelabra scattered throughout the room, so no one would have to bother with the small chandelier hanging over the bed—the flames offered a delicious sort of illumination.

Surely it was only their flickering, teasing light which made Griffin look like one of the old gods come to life?

His face was shadowed as he stalked toward the bed, but she could see the scars on his torso—three small pockmarks on his left side and shoulder, something long and wicked which curled down his hip, numerous small white marks. They should’ve frightened her, but instead the sight of them made her…hungry.

Her gaze dropped to his penis, erect and proud, jutting from a nest of dark curls. She realized she was salivating. How strange.

Look, all that was required was for Griffin to remove his clothing, and suddenly you are getting all sorts of scientific data!

Perhaps in response to her gaze his member seemed to jump, to push forward even more intently. How would it feel, inside her? When she pressed her thighs together, Felicity could already feel the dampness of her desire, and while her previous mating experiences hadn’t been entirely satisfactory, it was anticipation, not fear, which made her breathing faster.

Another worrying medical anomaly.

She made a mental note to investigate that, and then promptly forgot about said mental note when his hands closed around her ankles and he pulled her toward the edge of the bed.

There might’ve been a small squeal, but Felicity hoped it had been a mere gasp.

“Are ye ready to learn, sweetheart?”

At his growl, her gaze dropped to his cock, then flicked back up to his eyes.

“Answer me,” Griffin commanded. “Ye want this?”

“Yes,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“What do ye want?”

“I want you to teach me about pleasure. I want to understand this connection we have.”

Without answer, Griffin ran his palms up her calves to her knees, then back again. It was a simple touch, but through the silk of her stockings, she could feel his heat. The muscles in her legs quivered from the effort of staying still.

Then his hands were on her knees again, and he was lifting them, separating them. He placed her feet flat on the bed, knees bent…and he leaned over to kiss the inside of one thigh.

This time she definitely squealed, then tried to squash his head between her knees.

Instead of becoming irritated, Griffin merely placed a hand on each leg and pushed them open again. His breath on her damp skin caused her muscles to tighten, and when he kissed her again, this time closer to the junction of her legs, Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and tried to tell herself not to be frightened.

He wasn’t going to hurt her.

She’d asked for this.

His lips skimmed across her skin again, and then he licked the spot where her leg met her—her her and she didn’t think she could get any more tense.

Then his palm came down on her pelvis, and the weight pressed her rear end into the mattress. She hadn’t realized how she’d arched away from it until then.

It was hard to tell, but it felt as if he’d smiled. “Breathe, Flick. It’ll be a’right.”

Would it?

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