Page 83 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

The explanation had started well, but the more she listened, the more it sounded like he was admitting that he was locking his feelings back up. How could they have a relationship without any feelings? She wanted to explain to him that his feelings had not weakened him, but she did not know how.

“Come,” he said, lifting her into his arms.

Beatrice was conflicted, but as soon as his lips met hers, she forgot about her worry. She could explain it to him later when they spoke properly, but for now, she would get what she had been yearning for since he had kissed her earlier at the charity gala.

She took his bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it softly. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, sucking on it. She ran her hands over his back, but there were too many layers between them. Beatrice pulled off his jacket as they kissed. The Duke replied by lifting her into the air, and she wrapped her legs around him.

She felt heat pool into her core when his clothed member rubbed against her, and she wrapped her legs tighter around him, needing to hold onto him.

“I feel like I am home,” she murmured.

“You are home,” the Duke said. “You never need to leave again.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

The Duke put her down, and she immediately tugged at the buttons on the front of his shirt. However, she did not have time to undo any of them before he spun her around and untied the ribbons on the back of her dress. He removed them all quickly and pushed the dress over her shoulders—it fell to the floor.

Beatrice turned back around, wearing only her shift. She felt her nipples stiffen at the thought of the Duke pleasuring her. Her hand went to the buttons on his shirt again, and she was sure she broke a couple of them in her haste to remove his clothing. She placed her palms on his bare chest when she had his shirt off, and she kept them there when he kissed her again.

Their tongues danced together, their lips moving from side to side. Beatrice’s hands went down to his crotch, and she fumbled with his belt. She stopped for a moment as he kissed her. There was something different about his actions and motions, as if he was holding back for fear he would hurt her.

She only started moving again when his hands came down to his belt to help her unbuckle it. Beatrice pulled open his trousers, and they fell to the ground before the Duke kicked them away.

He continued plundering her mouth with his tongue, and he grabbed her rear, hoisting her up again. She could feel his warmth now as she wrapped her legs around him again, with only the thin fabric of her shift separating them.

She moaned and gasped as he kissed her. She needed to bite and suck on his skin. Her lips trailed down his chin, neck, and shoulders, and she bit his upper arm a little harder. She felt a furious pleasure rise within her, and there was only one way to deal with it.

“Take me to the bed,” she pleaded. “I need you.”

Beatrice felt her nipples rub against her shift as her breasts were pressed against the Duke’s chest. He took her to the bed and tossed her down on the mattress, eliciting an excited gasp from her lips.

She looked up at him as he towered over her, and her eyes flicked to his crotch again. She wanted to release the monster beneath the thin fabric and push it inside her.

“What are you looking at?” the Duke asked with a sly smile.

“I don’t know,” Beatrice replied. “It’s hidden. You must show me what you keep down there.”

“All in good time. All in good time.”

The Duke climbed into the bed, running his hands up her thin shift, over her breasts and nipples to her neck, and then back down again. A shiver ran through Beatrice’s body. Their time apart had made her want her husband even more, and she knew the pleasure that would come would be a dozen times better than what had come before.

Edwin planted a kiss on her thigh, then her stomach, her breast, and her shoulder, all above her shift. He was teasing her, and she wanted to rip off her shift as much as she needed to rip off his drawers. He kissed her lips gently, slowly. He held himself above her, gazing into her eyes.

And she saw the same look again.

“What is the matter?” Beatrice asked.

“Nothing is the matter, my dear.”

“No, something is the matter,” Beatrice insisted. “I can see it in your eyes. Something is bothering you. What happened when we were apart?”

She wished she had not asked the question when she saw the look in his eyes change.

“No, I must not dwell on it,” he murmured, cupping her breast in his hand. “I need to pleasure you.”

“I don’t like this,” Beatrice said. “Not this,” she clarified, gesturing between them. “Something is troubling you and preventing you from being here with me fully. I want to help you.”

“I don’t know if you can,” the Duke sighed. “I’m worried it will only make things worse.”

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