Page 21 of Provoked

“Maybe,” she admits without lifting her head.

“Then if you’re a very good girl tomorrow, I might let you suck my cock. He’s feeling neglected.”

Her blush deepens despite her face still being hidden against me. She moves to pull away, but I hold her tight with one hand. “You can go, but I want you here with me tonight, understand?”

Finally, she lifts her head to give me a confused look. “Go fix dinner or whatever is on your mind, but I want you back in this bed by eight, Ingrid.” I don’t leave any hint of a question in my command. Ingrid’s eyes widen, but eventually she nods and slowly sits up. I watch her closely to make sure I didn’t take things too far, but she moves easily enough. Her face, though, is still pink with heightened emotion. Almost as an afterthought, she snags her book from the corner of the nightstand before escaping from the room.

Whatwasthat? Oh, I know the literal definition, but I guess I mean why? I need a minute to regroup because this was a whole new Justin and my gut is telling me this is the genuine one. He’s a mix of gentle and stern, considerate and arrogant and it feels like a very volatile cocktail. The kind that can get you addicted before you even notice you’ve drained the glass.

All these thoughts race through my head when I pause at the head of the stairs, waiting for my equilibrium to come back to center. But it’s racing around speculating about Justin and what he wants from me now. Or is willing to take… So instead, I head downstairs slowly and into the kitchen to make a soothing cup of tea. I’ll worry about dinner later. Right now my entire body is tingling with newfound sensations and I need to process. I know I always said I wanted Justin to see me as a grown woman, but now that he does… I’m both excited and insecure about meeting those expectations.

Which reminds me, I wanted to read the big love scene between the duke and Kitty to see what set Justin off so badly. I normally avoid skipping ahead unless I don’t plan to finish the book, but this is an emergency.

Kitty squinted into the dim light cast by the candlestick clutched in Rafe’s broad hand. He was standing at the side of her bed, clad in a forest green dressing gown and looking grim. “Let’s get this over with, Kitty.”

That made her sit up abruptly. “Get what over with?” she finally asked, although she had an unpleasant suspicion.

“Consummating the marriage,” he growled, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Kitty sighed and only with considerable restraint refrained fromrolling her eyes. “No. Not until you can muster a little more enthusiasm for the task.”

Rafe winced and set the candle on the nightstand. Kitty gulped slightly when he moved to unfasten his robe. She snaked out a hand to stop him, jumping slightly when once again she felt that electric current when their hands touched.

“Rafe,” she said softly, like she was trying to calm a wild dog, “sit down.”

He hesitated, but must have seen something in her serious expression sufficient to heed her request. Abruptly he sat on the edge of the bed, his robe now spreading to reveal muscular bare thighs. Kitty dragged her eyes away from this fascinating sight.

“Is this how you approach one of your paramours?”

Rafe looked shocked. “What do you know of paramours? And why do you think I have any?”

“Don’t you?” She was mightily entertained at the thought of a virginal and reclusive duke. Plus, she knew it was a complete falsehood. “You forget that one of my dearest friends from school is the youngest sister of Davina, the Marchioness of Oxbridge. I think you’ll have no trouble agreeing that Davina knows a lot about paramours.” Kitty bit her lip to keep from laughing. The Lady Davina was known as a high-flyer throughout all of society. It was said that her husband even knowingly introduced her to many of her lovers in the hopes of securing lucrative tenants for his various rural estates. And part of the lease agreement was a visit from the Marchioness at a very select house party at least once a year. Thankfully, she had never heard Rafe’s name mentioned in association with Davina’s and he certainly wasn’t in need of more lands. Davina’s stables, as they were referred to, were full of second and third sons blessed with fortunes but no land.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Rafe grumbled, making Kitty finally roll her eyes.

“And why not? Nobody tells them to just get it over with. From all accounts, unless the gentleman is completely without skill, they quiteenjoy the marital act.” Kitty arched an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to contradict her.

“That’s different,” he muttered. “The lower classes…”

“Please. Davina is as well bred as the best of them! And she said…” Rafe cut her off with a shocked hand to her lips.

“When the hell did you ever meet Lady Davina?” he growled, finally lifting his hand so she could answer.

Kitty sighed a little. She quite liked the feeling of his warm fingers on her face. “She came to visit Georgie when she was in the area. She had a lot to say on the rights of women to enjoy what comes most naturally. And not to let overly proper husbands dictate things like always wearing nightclothes.” Before he could realize what she was up to, Kitty swept up the tail of her nightdress and somehow wriggled out of it before Rafe could manage more than a strangled moan. She smiled up at him. “Now, what have you to say to that?”

My tea is growing cold at my elbow as I read. I know it, but I can’t avert my attention from the page. I really have no idea what got Justin so riled about ‘unrealistic’ lovemaking. Unless I just haven’t gotten to that part, yet? Or did he somehow think that I had no idea what an orgasm felt like simply because I’d avoided having one with a partner? Admittedly, the one Justin gave me was exponentially more exciting than anything I’d experienced before, but I was at least familiar with the event.

I sigh and set the book aside to warm my tea in the microwave. The little clock on the appliance catches my attention. It’s nearing six, so maybe I had better think about dinner. Studying the contents of the refrigerator, I decide on grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It might be too light a meal for Fred, but Justin still has a limited appetite while he’s recovering, so I can add some ham or something to Fred’s. I’ll ask him when he comes in.

13

Fred wanders into the kitchen looking tired and worried. “Fred?” I ask cautiously as I flip the first of the grilled-cheese sandwiches in the frying pan. “Everything okay?”

He gives me a reassuring grimace. “You’re now legally married if that counts as okay. And Margot’s been traced to a flight to Vegas two days ago.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Depends on whether she went there to gamble or meet with mob connections,” he grouses.

---