Page 65 of His Unwanted Duchess

“Hm. Then let me be the latest. However, first…”

Sliding his cool hand around the back of her neck, his deft fingers leaving shivering paths behind them, Stephen pulled her close, fitting his mouth to hers as if they’d been melded together.

It was, by Beatrice’s calculations, their third kiss. She thought that perhaps she was getting better at it by now.

Her arms went around his broad shoulders without her having to even think about it, her fingers curling into the short, thick fuzz of hair at the nape of his neck. His free hand, the one not at the back of her neck, was everywhere at once. It wound around her waist, pulling her close, sliding up her ribs almost to the underside of her breast. She felt his teeth gently scrape her lower lip—nothing painful, but rather an explosion of sensation, a feeling that plunged straight through her abdomen to the apex of her thighs.

Crash.

They both flinched apart at the sound of the champagne bottle slipping through Beatrice’s fingers and shattering on the ground.

“What a waste,” Stephen sighed.

Beatrice twisted her head, gasping for air, giddy with desire. Fingers digging into his shoulders, she steadied herself.

“If… if you cared for me,” she gasped, feeling as though she’d just run a mile, “if youwantedme, why go to all that trouble and make me sign that list of rules?”

His cheek was pressed against hers, and she could hear his ragged breaths, as well. His hips were angled to hers, and she could feel something hot and firm pressed against her. Beatrice had read enough books to know whatthatwas, but it didn’t stop the curiosity bubbling inside her.

Stephen shook his head. “Never mind that, Duchess. For now, I only want to hear the sweetest sound of all from you, and it requires no words at all.”

She blinked. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out in a moment. Into the carriage, wife.”

Beatrice prided herself on rarely doing what she was told, but she found herself scrambling to obey this particular order.

The carriage rocked and bounced on its springs as she climbed inside, barely able to draw breath, shivering with anticipation and nerves. Stephen crawled in after her, closing the door and briskly drawing the curtains.

“Too dark,” he said with a sigh. “Still, a lit lantern would only attract attention, which is the last thing we want. Before we continue, Beatrice, I should ask whether you have been experimenting in my absence.”

Color rushed to her cheeks. “I should say not!”

“Not even by yourself?”

“By my… what doyou mean? I thought you weren’t interested in conversation. If all you wanted was a nice chat, we might have remained outside.”

His expression darkened, thrillingly so, and Beatrice knew she’d said the right thing to make him act.

In the blink of an eye, Stephen was on her, his lips devouring hers, his broad chest pushing her down onto the carriage seat. He was careful not to crush her or knock her head as they went down, of course.

Beatrice was left to clutch at his shoulders as best as she could, gasping for breath. Her skirt rucked itself up between them, and she had no idea that Stephen had slipped his hand underneaththe layers of fabric until she felt cool fingertips graze the back of her knee.

Beatrice drew in a sharp breath, her eyes flying open.

“Steady, darling,” Stephen murmured, his lips grazing the side of her neck. He nipped her, giving her the tiniest, sweetest pain, and she shuddered.

His fingers traced higher and higher, following the curve of her inner thigh. It was almost like a dance, his fingers tip-tapping and stroking their way upwards. When his knuckles brushed against her sex, Beatrice was sure that she stopped breathing altogether.

He traced a line upwards, slowly, lazily, as though he had all the time in the world, even though Beatrice felt as though she weredying.

“How is it?” he asked, smiling against the side of her neck as though he were asking for her opinion on a particularly delicious soup.

Beatrice opened her mouth to answer, but then Stephen twisted his hand, touching a place inside her that made her jerk and cry out, the moan echoing around the small space.

“I see,” he responded, lowering his head to press a kiss to the tops of her breasts, pressed against her daring neckline.

He sped up his movements, falling into a clearly practiced rhythm, which Beatrice tried not to think about as she careened helplessly towards a climax. The pulsing desire coiled tighter and tighter in her gut, the feeling ofwantso very, very near to being sated.

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