Page 33 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

Beatrice held his gaze. He was not angry, she was sure of it. He had the same wants, needs, and feelings as she had.

“I want your lips again,” Beatrice breathed. “Not only on my neck, but on my lips.”

Edwin nodded. “You want my lips?”

“I do,” Beatrice whispered.

“Then you shall have them,” Edwin replied.

He moved quickly again, like a wild animal claiming its prey. Beatrice did not have time to move or say anything before his eyes locked on hers, and once again, she was powerless to resist. And once again, her hands went to his shirt, clawing at it.

He cupped her head in his hands, and she melted into him. The intensity with which he kissed her was breathtaking, and she was weak-kneed for a moment, not moving except when he moved her. Then, her instincts kicked in.

She placed her hands flat on his chest, wanting to rip his shirt but knowing he was the one in control. He pressed his lips to hers, pushing them open, and his tongue pushed past hers. The fiery passion turned into something deeper, and the staccato movements were replaced by a flowing river.

Their hands moved languidly over each other. Beatrice ran her hands up and down the Duke’s clothed chest, and the Duke moved his hands from her head to her neck and then to her shoulders.

She wanted to freeze time. There was nothing she wanted more than to put her hands on the Duke and have his hands explore her, but she needed time to take it in. Her tongue danced with his while his fingers caressed her collarbone, and it was almost too much to deal with.

She stilled her hands and wondered how she had ended up here. In so many ways, it was troubling, but here, now, at this moment with the Duke, it was everything she had ever hoped for. She was married to him, and he did not love her, nor did she love him, but there was something undeniable between them. A force of nature that could not be stopped.

Never had she felt this way with anyone, and in her wildest dreams of what it would be like to be with someone (loved or unloved), she did not imagine the small bursts of passion that bound themselves together to produce the feeling deep inside. At that moment, in the middle of that kiss, Beatrice did not care what her life was like. All she cared about was being in the moment.

Edwin’s tongue pressed against hers, one final assault, and then he pulled back. Beatrice could finally gasp and breathe, but her relief did not last long. His lips and tongue were back on her neck, and all she could do was close her eyes and try not to fall from the chair.

The Duke moved from side to side, seeming to kiss the exact spots that ached for his lips, and every kiss was still unexpected and thrilling. It was as if he knew her body better than she knew her own. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she became like jelly under his silken touch. She hesitated to open her eyes again in case it was all a dream.

And with that thought, the pleasure ceased.

Beatrice moaned, breathing heavily through her mouth and feeling as if the entire room was spinning around her. She could not hear, see, or smell him. Her eyes were still closed tight, but she tried to hold on to the image of him ravishing her, for fear that she was in bed again and it had all been another dream.

With great hesitation, Beatrice opened her eyes. She let out a deep sigh of relief when she saw the Duke before her. She had not remembered her actions, but his clothes were disheveled. One side of his shirt was untucked, and it looked like one button had been snapped from the front. His hair was askew.

“Did you enjoy that?” Edwin asked with a smile.

She opened her mouth, but instead of words, only gasps came out. She nodded, seeming to have forgotten all the letters of the alphabet.

“Soon, you will feel pleasure beyond a simple kiss,” Edwin said.

Beatrice had feared and looked forward to when they would make love. She did not know what to expect; she only wanted to feel what he would do to her. Some had told her it was painful, but from her intimate times with the Duke, she understood that any pain would be eclipsed by pleasure.

“I can’t wait that long,” she blurted out.

Edwin smiled. “You can’t wait that long?”

“No,” Beatrice whispered.

“Tell me how much you want me,” the Duke demanded.

“I need you,” Beatrice whispered.

“If you knew me, you would know I am a man of my word,” Edwin replied. “I told you I would give you a week, and you have six more days. I intend to keep my word.”

Beatrice felt as if she had been told she was dying.

“Yet, that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun,” Edwin added with a sly smile.

“What fun can be had?” Beatrice asked, trying to sound indifferent.

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