Page 62 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

She stared at him, no longer horrified that he had read her most precious possession but utterly spellbound. Before she knew it, she was nodding her head slowly.

He smiled and set the book down. “Then stand up, My Lady. Let me tear you out of those sea-soaked clothes.”

CHAPTER 25

Trembling as if she really had been lost at sea, drenched by icy waves, Lydia obeyed William’s command. She came to him, her gaze darting between his eyes and the book he still held in his hand.

For a moment, he wondered if it was a trick to steal back what he had discovered beneath the cushion. But as she stood in front of him, she made no move to snatch the book from his hand. It seemed she really did want to find out what a real-life Captain Kildare could do.

“You are shaking,” he whispered, setting the saucy novel down. He had already memorized the important parts, grateful for his impeccable retention.

She gulped. “It is nothing that the fireplace cannot chase away.”

“There are other ways to heat a body up,” he told her, watching her eyes light up, delighting in the small smile that played on her lips. She was lapping it up, and so was he—he could not deny it.

“Blankets, you mean?” she replied.

He shook his head and closed the gap between them.

“Like this,” he purred, turning her around.

A mirror hung above the fireplace, and though it was cracked and tarnished after years of disuse, it reflected just enough to stir William’s desire into a frenzy. He savored the blissful, nervous expression on Lydia’s face and the way her bosom rose and fell in heaving breaths and the way she grazed her teeth across her lower lip in anticipation.

She caught his gaze in the mirror, and as he gazed back, his eyes burning with need, he slowly began to unfasten the Dorset buttons that ran from the nape of her neck to the middle of her back.

As more of her soft, smooth skin became exposed, he could resist no longer. He dipped his head, chasing the undone buttons downward with grazing, searing lips. She gasped at each touch of his mouth, her neck arching back as his other hand slid around the curve of her waist and upward, over the flat of her stomach.

When he undid the last button, he returned his gaze to her reflection in the mirror, his blood pounding as her eyes widened.Slowly, he eased her capped sleeves off her shoulders and teased the fabric down her arms, bringing the bodice of the dress down with it. And as it broke free of her arms, the rest of the gown descended of its own accord, pooling at her feet.

“Step out,” he told her, sinking down onto one knee.

She did as he asked, and he pushed the dress away, feasting his hungry eyes on glimpses of her bare skin. She wore a petticoat and stays, stockings tied at her knees with ribbons, and nothing more.

“Turn to me,” he said.

Breathing hard, she slowly turned to face him, peering down with bright eyes and pink cheeks. He gazed back up at her as he reached for the ribbon at her waist, untying it with ease. The petticoat whispered as it fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it without any need for instruction.

Licking his lips, he took her foot and rested it on his bent knee. He teased the ribbon apart and rolled the stocking down, caressing her calf all the way to the ankle as he removed the stocking. He did the same with the other stocking, but as he freed her from it, he suddenly grasped her leg and hooked it over his shoulder.

She gasped as his mouth found what it so desperately sought, his hand gripping the back of her thigh to steady her.

“I do… not remember… this part,” she panted.

He grinned and flicked his tongue against her swollen bud, his loins throbbing as a strangled cry escaped her throat. He had been dreaming of this since he left London, and the taste of her was far greater than he had remembered, so satisfying, so intoxicating that he could not help but feast to his heart’s desire.

As he rolled his tongue against that pulsing pearl of pleasure, he listened to the language of her body. He felt the judders and shakes, heard the shift in every sawing breath, noted the change in her moans and gasps, using every small part of her bliss to piece together what she favored. Indeed, he wanted to give her a night she would never forget, for breaking her rule demanded nothing less than paradise for them both.

And as her breaths grew ever more rapid, her bosom heaving frantically in the constraints of her stays, her thigh trembling on his shoulder, he eased his fingertips along the warmth of her folds. His own breath caught as he felt how hot and ready she was, liquid desire coating his fingers as he paused at her entrance.

Curling his tongue around her secret pearl, he gently sucked as he eased his finger inside her.

She bucked and stifled a cry of bliss, whimpering in the most enticing way as he curled his finger and applied a pulsing pressure to match the fresh strokes of his tongue.

“Yes, Will!” she murmured, bracing her hand against his shoulder as if she did not trust herself to stay upright. “Yes!”

He eased another finger inside her, and the symphony of bliss that he had been building toward suddenly turned into a crescendo. She moaned and gasped and bucked and writhed, entirely lost in an ocean of pleasure that he had set her adrift upon. He relished every moment, still listening to the language of her body as he guided her toward that final, crashing wave of utter euphoria.

“Oh… Oh… Yes, husband! Yes, my wolf!” she half-screamed, her entire being rocked as her bliss finally struck. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

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