Page 30 of Hawthorne

I can’t help but gulp, and when I don’t answer, he presses, “Do you want to know why?”

I can imagine. As it seems, I wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

I nod playing the game he wants me to play.

“Because you’re like a weed in a garden.”Ouch.“You’ve seeped your way in, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to rip you out, you keep growing and thriving in it.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Let me finish.” His voice is deep and low but not as harsh as I’d expected. “It’s not that I don’t like it—or you.”

A soft, barely-there, touch on my shoulder has me opening my eyes. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

Sensory overload.

The proximity of his tall, muscular frame dominantly looming over me and the intensity of his piercing gaze all burn throughmy body, finding its way to my soul. It’s suffocating and oh-so addicting.

And so, so inappropriate.

“I’m constantly thinking about you ever since I saw you again at my aunt’s memorial. It’s not that I had forgotten about you throughout the years. Some of my fondest childhood memories were spent playing with you,” he sighs. “I guess I wrongly waited to see the same little girl I had left behind all those years ago. Not a grown and attractive woman.”

Attractive?

For me, having a stupid, innocent crush on this gorgeous man is one thing. To have him reciprocate it and risk his life? That’s a big no-no.

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” I whisper, bringing his eyes, which were glued to my collarbone, back to mine. “I’ll make sure to keep my distance or…”

“Or?”

“Do you want me to resign and leave?” I propose.

His eyes widen right before bringing some distance between us.

“What?”

His hands curl tightly on the sides of his hips as his face contorted in confusion.

“If I am such a nuisance, I will resign. I may just need a month or two to find somewhere to stay and get a new job, but after that, I could be out of your hair, Your Grace. I know that the will explicitly said that if it weren’t on my own free will you wouldn’t be able to–”

A weird noise sounds from deep in his chest, something between a displeased grunt and a growl. And then, right after, he stalks forward, closing the distance between us all over again. Except for this time, he is not impossibly close to me; he’spressingme against the wall, letting me feeleverycorner and ridge of his hard, muscular body.

“Y-your Grace,” I stumble on my words. “Wha–”

I am cut off by warm, soft lips pressing onto mine.

My body freezes in shock. As our mouths mould together, tingles course over my skin, bringing life to my body.

My legs wobble at the exact moment his arms wrap around my waist, keeping me upright. Strong but gentle, this man is holding me like I’ve never been held in my life.

When his tongue tentatively touches my bottom lip, and I open, his demeanour changes. The intensity rises, and the duke’s lips become rougher in their movements.

I have no choice but to lose myself in the moment, enjoying how this man takes control of the moment with such ease, just like a ballet duet, where he leads, and I have no other choice but to follow.

Like an out-of-body experience.

My hands fist his shirt, pulling myself closer to him.

Maybe my eagerness was all the message he needed, or maybe he just felt like doing it, but while one of his hands is holding my jaw, the other one lowers to rest at the top of my bum, bringing our hips closer.

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