Page 91 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

“Like you are begging me to ravish you with your eyes.”

Heat flooded her cheeks all the way to her chest. Was she actually doing that?

She hastily looked away, even as her fingers curled into the folds of her skirt.

She wanted him. More thananything. And she knew he could tell, the rogue.

The rest of the journey back to the estate was spent in tense silence. But Phoebe could hear her heart pounding in her chest, feel the blood rushing in her ears. Even her breath seemed to come out unnaturally loud.

They arrived to find the estate lit only by a few lamps and no Morton to greet them at the door.

How strange. Even though balls tended to end in the early hours of the morning, she would always find the faithful butler waiting for her at the door.

Had Ethan warned Morton off, too? She would not put it past him.

However, she did not dwell on the butler’s strange absence, for she found herself pushed against the wall, her husband’s chest pressing against her as his lips ravaged hers once more.

She threw her arms around him and responded eagerly, opening up for him with wanton abandon.

Later in the morning, she might be mortified by the intensity of her response to him—but not tonight.

Tonight, she would revel in his lips trailing down her neck. Tonight, she would delight in the way his hands boldly mapped out her curves through the layers of fabric of her dress.

He sucked on the delicate skin at the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, eliciting a soft cry from her lips as the sensation shot like a bolt to her throbbing core.

Phoebe let out a soft sigh, tilting her head to the side. Baring more of herself to him, to whatever he wished to do to her.

“Sweet Duchess,” he growled. “Do you like my lips on you?”

Yes! Dear God in heaven, yes!

He swept his thumb across the peak of her breast, and she felt the sensation spearing through the layers of fabric straight to her center.

“Can you feel yourself getting wet for me, Duchess?” He chuckled.

It was almost embarrassing how he could easily tell her response to his touch, to his words.

“Tonight, I am going to touch youeverywhere,” he promised her. “And then, I am going tofeaston you.”

She clutched at his shoulders, her knees going weak at the wicked oath in his voice. For a moment, she feared that her legs would actually give way beneath her, but then he swept her off her feet and began to walk up the stairs.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked for the second time that night.

“To my rooms,” he murmured, a wicked smile flashing in the darkness. “I cannot have you screaming my name at the front door now, can I?”

Screaming.

Dear heaven, Phoebe felt her insides turn into liquid fire at the promise in those words.

Ethan was already rock hard and aching for her in the carriage when he pressed her hand to the evidence of his arousal.

Now that he had laid her on his bed? He had never wanted a woman more than he did Phoebe at that moment. The only thing that stopped him from rucking her skirts to her waist and plunging into her was the fact that she was a virgin.

A very tempting one, but a virgin, nonetheless. And as his wife, she deserved every consideration he could offer in his lustful state.

Phoebe, however, regarded him with a pensive gaze and an almost relieved smile.

Relieved about what exactly?

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