Page 95 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

Grace felt Philip press his lips to hers in a heated kiss. Her promise to not go anywhere seemed to have broken something in him. Whereas before he had kissed her slowly, sensually, now it was full of need and passion. Grace reached up, clinging to his waistcoat as her hands took hold of her hips.

She didn’t want this moment to end, didn’t want to be free of this feeling that Philip loved her, that he didn’t want to lose her.

“Stay,” he whispered between their kisses. “Out here with me tonight.”

“To picnic?” she said with a smile. “Is that not a little improper?” she teased him, leaning far enough back, so she could look him in the eye. “A duke and duchess picnicking under the stars when they should be tucked up in bed?”

“I was not just thinking of a picnic.” With his words, his fingers splayed even more, reaching up to her waist, and the tops of his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts. “I was thinking of something much more improper.”

“Oh?” she gasped, excitement shooting through her core at the mere thought.

“Haven’t you noticed by now, Grace?” He bent down toward her again. “You make me quite powerless at night.”

“Me?” Her voice said a little shakily.

“I can’t stay away,” he whispered, his lips pressing to hers.

Grace wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent toward her. She suddenly understood something that had passed her by before. All the times they had made love, she thought it was him just trying to have an heir, but she was wrong.

All this talk of possessing her, of her belonging to him, was about this need, about love.

I can’t believe it. He has been as entranced with me as I am with him!

He pulled back from the kiss a little and drew her by the hand toward the picnic blanket. She was breathless as she followed him, not just because she wanted this feeling again, this excitement, but because this time, it would be different. They would be completely making love, knowing how much they each wanted it.

As they reached the blanket, Philip turned to her and started to unthread the laces of her gown.

“I thought you liked the dress,” she teased him, watching as his gaze grew hungry.

“I love it,” he murmured. “Wear more dresses like this. Stop hiding in frumpy dresses that don’t show off this figure of yours.”

“Show it off?” she repeated in amazement.

As he pushed the gown down firmly, he turned her around, reaching for the corset. He pulled at those laces too, his movement growing quicker now.

“You don’t have any real idea, do you?” he said with a laugh. “Dear God, Grace.” He turned her back around as he threw the corset off her, bending back down. “I think the first night I ever wondered what it would be like to have you in my arms was the night you fell into me, and I had to catch you.”

“That was the first night we ever met!” she reminded him.

“It was.” He laughed. “I kept trying to push thoughts of you away, these curves of yours…” His voice deepened as she shivered with excitement. “But that night when you tried to kiss another man, it made me snap. I don’t want you kissing any other man but me.”

“Then kiss me already,” she pleaded.

He did, bending down toward her with such heat that she started pulling at his clothes too, determined to shed them and be completely bare with him. When he had nothing but his trousers left on, they fell to the blanket together.

The food he had arranged was tipped to the side of the blanket as he laid over her, exploring her. Her legs raised, wrapping themselves around his hips as he kissed her, exploring her with his tongue.

She shivered though it had nothing to do with the chilly air of that autumnal night. He seemed to sense the cold though, for rather than pulling that chemise off her completely, he raised it around her hips, opening her hips to him.

This time, there was nothing preemptive. He didn’t explore her with his tongue or fingers but released his length from his trousers. Her breathing quickened, just as her heartbeat did, and she wrapped her arms around his biceps, holding him close.

“Say you’re mine, Grace,” he pleaded, not quite kissing her but hovering his lips just above hers. “Say it,” he pleaded again.

“I am yours,” she moaned as he nudged her entrance, teasing her with his hardness, but not yet taking her. “I always was, Philip.”

With this confession, he pushed inside of her.

Her hands tightened around his arms as he entered her, and she moaned his name loudly.

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