Page 54 of A Duchess to Reclaim

She opened her eyes just enough to look at his face, and she smiled as she saw his face was tense with both frustration and desire.

“You’ll have to try better than that,” she whispered, teasing him as she batted her lashes.

A soft growl escaped from Dominic’s chest as white sparks shot behind his silver eyes, and suddenly she was pulled up to her feet again, being guided into a flurry of circles and twirls. When the song ended, they were both panting and warm from the movements; caught in one another’s gazes. Even the sound of someone clearing their throat didn’t have them looking away from one another.

“What song shall we play next, Your Grace?” A voice asked.

Chest heaving, nostrils flaring; Dominic looked more beast than man as he kept his eyes pinned on Amelia. The hungry, possessive look sent a deep pleasure shooting through her veins; and she couldn’t help but smirk as she stared right back in challenge.

I am not afraid. Not of you.

It was a fact she had struggled with the night before. She’d stayed up late wondering if she was an absolute dolt for not being more fearful of him. But now, she realized why. He was the physical representation of the strength she wanted inside herself.

“Leave us,” Dominic commanded.

Static seemed to form between he and Amelia as the musician made quick work of gathering their instruments and swiftly left the room.

“I win,” Amelia whispered, tilting her chin slightly as her smirk grew into a sensual smile.

Pure white light seemed to blaze through Dominic’s eyes as she made the statement, and in the blink of an eye, his body was wrapped around hers. She gasped as his hand fisted in her hair and drew her face to his as the other locked him to his waist. His mouth descended on hers before she could even take another breath; devouring her like a man starving.

This time instead of mewling and melting into him, Amelia’s hands funneled into his silky black hair and she kissed him back with equal fervor. Their lips and teeth gnashed against one another savagely; each trying to claim the other.

Then just as quickly as the kiss started- it stopped. Dominic pulled away from her with a ragged breath, making her world spin as he let her go.

Amelia blinked, trying to fight the lust-filled haze that had filled her mind. She drank in the positively ravaged look of her husband; no longer appearing as a man in total control; but one on the brink of losing his humanity. It gave her a wicked glee, and she gave him a vulpine smile as she fluffed her hair and straightened her skirts.

“It’s almost two,” she told him, still breathing heavy herself as she began to walk to the door. “Shall we go?”

“What?” He croaked.

She looked at him over her shoulder, tossing her curls.

“To London,” she replied. “You owe me a lesson.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

“Give me your hand,” Dominic commanded, his tone harsh.

Amelia gave him that same sensual, vulpine smile she’d given him back at Ellworth, and placed her right wrist in his palm. Her silent obedience only served to amplify his arousal, and he had to bite back the wolfish growl trying to force its way out of his throat.

He undid women. That’s what he’d always done, it’s who he was. His dominance turned their minds and bodies into his personal playthingsnotthe other way around. And yet at Ellsworth, that was exactly what Amelia had done.

He had not finished with that kiss. It was supposed to be a reprimand for her sarcasm, but instead she’d somehow turned the punishment around on him. The carriage ride back to London had been full of silent tension and while Amelia had seemed quite content with it and kept a smiling face on the scenery; it had caused averydifferent effect on him.

While she had no trouble keeping her eyes off of him he hadn’t been able to take his off of hers. He’d studied everything about her. The tilt of her small chin, the curve of her milk and honey cheeks; the slope of her delicate nose and the way her brows and thick lashes highlighted her almond-shaped golden-honey eyes.

She’d changed back into one of her more appropriate London gowns, and he despised the high collar and looser fit of it; keeping him from appreciating the small swell of her natural curves.

“Are you sure this gown is what you want to practice in,” he ground out presently, winding the wrap around her wrist and hand. “It is not exactly practical.”

“It is what I would be wearing if I would have to throw a punch at someone,” Amelia countered. “Might as well learn with the same restrictions.”

Her logic and obvious ability to think more clearly than himself only darkened his mood, and he ground his teeth against the onslaught of need coursing through him.

“Other hand,” he commanded when finished with the first. She did so, and even giggled,giggledat the way he jerked and wound the wrap with frustration.

“Stop that,” he snapped, fastening the end of the wrap in place. “You won’t be giggling like a school girl when you’re about to punch someone.”

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