Page 37 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

He parted a little, just enough to start kissing her down her neck.

“You… will not… talk… of other… men,” he hissed darkly between his kisses. He found a spot in the curve of her neck that drove her mad. He placed an openmouthed kiss to that spot, nibbling her in such a way that she gasped at the dual sensation of pleasure and hint of pain. She wanted more of it and pressed her neck into his lips.

His hand had slid down to her hip. He guided her off her own bench as the carriage rounded another corner. They ended up on his bench with Grace half fallen into his lap.

One of her knees moved beside his hip, straddling him, as he took a firmer hold of her hip and guided it forward. Her hips brushed his. The movement mimicked what they could be doing, prompting a moan to fall from her lips.

He hooked a finger around the high collar of her dress and pulled it to the side. His movements were so sharp that she actually heard the material tear.

“I…” she whispered, trying to hold her ground when she realized what a shameful display she was making of herself.

The formal man had slipped into the passionate one again, and as he had changed, so had she. She had become hungry for his touch.

“I am notyours,”she said determinedly. He placed another open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone, nipping her playfully, as if in reprimand for her words.

“You will be,” he whispered against her skin. “Very soon.”

Then he shifted his hands. One slid from her hip to the curve of her back, his fingers splaying and keeping her pressed against him. The other reached down to her thigh and gripped her between the cover of her dress. She gasped at the sensation of his hand being so close to exploring her.

His fingers inched higher. His fingertips caressed the area between her legs but still through her gown.

“Please,” the word shamefully escaped her. She was ready to beg down on her knees if he’d release this sudden ache. That space between her legs practically pulsed, needing something, needing his touch.

“Ah, you are begging for my touch now,” he whispered against her skin. The neck of her gown ripped a little bit more. The feeling of it made her gasp again. He was setting kisses down her chest, getting closer and closer to the top curve of her breasts. “So improper, my Duchess,” he murmured against her skin.

He didn’t seem to mind her being improper now. He seemed to want it.

His fingers brushed her center again through the gown, not quite giving her a proper touch but merely teasing her then abruptly, it was over. He jerked his head back, looking up at her on his lap.

“I’m afraid, we’ll have to wait.”

“W-what?” she managed to stammer.

His hands took hold of her hips. She yelped in surprise as he raised himself up with her still straddling him then pressed her back down onto her own bench. She fumbled to sit straight as he released her, retreating to his own bench.

Breathless, she stared at him. His suit was at last a little rumpled rather than the creaseless perfection it always was.

“Are you joking?” she muttered in amazement. “You can touch me like that then you speak of waiting?”

Something dark came over his eyes.

“Just a reminder of who you now belong to, Grace,” he said, his voice deep. “Believe me, the thought of giving you what you want tonight…” he paused, his eyes slipping down her.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like the clumsy fool in the stupidly frilly dress under that gaze. She felt like a woman who was capable of raising a man’s desire.

“Hearing you shout my name as I enter you? Now, what I would give to feel that tonight.”

She trembled, a dark sort of desire erupting in her stomach.

This was the formal elder brother of Eleanor. A man of strict rigidity and propriety, yet he was talking about entering her.

She rubbed her thighs together beneath her gown, trying to satisfy her longing for him.

“But I’ll be proper. Until the wedding night.” His eyes returned to her face.

The carriage came to a sudden halt.

Grace was so unprepared for it that she nearly toppled off the bench again. As she was flung to the side, the Duke’s hand was there. He caught her palm, keeping her in the seat.

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