Page 41 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

Oh, my world.

Agnes felt a thrilling shiver down her spine.

Her breath caught in her throat, a subtle gasp escaping as the undeniable chemistry between them crackled in the air. The room seemed to warm, and even Agnes couldn’t deny the enticing pull Matthew had on her. The touch of his eyes, tracing over her, sent a cascade of sensations through her body.

His eyes held a sinful promise, and her body responded to the unspoken promise in his gaze. A subtle heat blossomed within her.

With every step he took toward her, Agnes felt the anticipation build. The trickles of awareness between her thighs were both unexpected and welcome.

“Good evening, Lady Young, Lady Egerton…” He turned his dark eyes to Agnes. “Miss Agnes.”

The women curtsied and said their greetings, but Matthew was already focused on Agnes. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, fair lady?” he asked. His eyes, dark and intense, lingered on Agnes as he extended the invitation to dance.

She felt a shiver of excitement and desire run down her spine, an electrifying connection sparking between them.

With a subtle nod and a breathless “Yes, Your Grace,” Agnes agreed, her mother’s disapproving look not escaping her notice.

She knew her mother would have a lot to say later, but she didn’t care at that moment. She would cross the bridge once she got to it.

As they moved to the dance floor, Matthew’s touch sent warmth through Agnes’s body. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in the embrace of a waltz.

Mary’s disapproving gaze and Lady Egerton’s haughty expression were forgotten as Agnes succumbed to the rhythm of the dance.

“Hello,” he seemed to purr.

“Hello, Your Grace.”

“I think we have become close enough that you can skip the formalities, Agnes.”

The way he said her name, it was like a worship, sinful and heavenly at the same time.

“Agnes?”

“Yes, Your Grace?” She looked up at him, and he chuckled darkly.

“Did you even hear me?” His voice held amusement and mirth.

“No, I wasn’t paying attention, Your Grace.” She grinned.

The tension between them simmered with each step, an unspoken desire hanging in the air. Matthew led with confidence, his gaze never leaving Agnes. She, in turn, couldn’t help but notice the strength in his arms and the way his eyes held a promise of something more.

“Call me Matthew,” he said, and Agnes smiled.

“Oh… is that right, Your Grace?”

“It will be after tonight.”

Their bodies moved in harmony, and Agnes couldn’t deny the intoxicating allure of Matthew’s proximity.

She tried not to think too much about the meaning of his words.

The subtle scent of his cologne mingled with the music, creating a heady atmosphere. As they waltzed, Agnes couldn’t escape the awareness of Matthew’s hand on her waist, the heat radiating through the layers of fabric.

Their dance unfolded like a dream, the enchanting cadence of the waltz carrying them through the grand ballroom.

During a brief pause, Matthew, his voice low and intimate, inquired, “Miss Agnes, your week, how has it been? I’ve noticed you seem to have found quite the companion in my mischievous sister.” His fingers lightly grazed her waist during the dance.

Agnes found herself captivated by his playful charm.

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