Page 2 of Duke of Pride

Not something, butsomeone.

Stephen acted out of pure instinct, and his arm shot out, snaked around a waist, and pulled. In the darkness, he could not see, but he couldfeel.

A very naked, very feminine body was pressed against his, trapped by his arm, his hand resting on a curvy hip that filled his palm. It was wrong to focus on that sensation. Those hips were now flush against his, and that sent a jolt of awareness through his body.

His chest was met with the swell of a bosom, hot and heavy. The delicate peaks pressed against his skin through the faint sheen of raindrops still clinging to him, nothing else between them. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was nothing but sensation.

His arm instinctively tightened around her, his fingers flexing over smooth, bare skin. And then,God help him,he felt everything. The slope of her back, the gentle curve of her waist beneath his fingertips, the shape of her, pressed along his entire length. The logical part of his brain shut down, his instincts took over, and his body reacted violently, hardening, tightening.

A sharp gasp filled the room, and a desperate inhale confirmed what his touch was painfully aware of. There was a woman in his room. A woman. Averynaked woman.

The sound shot through him like lightning, igniting every nerve in his body. She felt this too. His naked body, the way her softness molded into his hard frame, how painfully aware he was of her skin. Her scent, an intoxicating orange blossom, invaded his nostrils.

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through him. His muscles tensed, his hand frozen on the warm, supple curve it gripped. Because if he moved, if he shifted even an inch, he would have to acknowledge what exactly he was touching. Then, he would want—no, he wouldneed—to conquer more.

Stephen fought that feral part of him that urged him to throw everything out of the window and just touch more, feel beyond, lean in, taste, lick, take, push. So easy, so close, so warm, so soft.

He was still coming to grips with the unreal situation he was in when, suddenly, blinding lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the whole room for just a few seconds. It was enough for Stephen. As the light fell on the face of the mystery woman, he immediately recognized her.

“Victoria?”

Victoria Crawford. His baby sister’s best friend.

Was he hallucinating? Was the impact of the crash bigger than he had thought? Did he suffer some head trauma that made him see people who had no business being in his room in the middle of the night? How else could he justify the fact that this woman was currently entangled in his embrace in the most compromising way?

“Victoria?” he repeated.

The repetition seemed comical, as if he was expecting a figment of his imagination to actually answer. But then again, how could this be an illusion when she felt so tangible in his arms, and touch, all warm flesh against his cold one?

Cold? Oh, he was anything but cold now, this sudden embrace filling him with more heat than he would feel even if he threw himself into the fireplace behind him.

But then again, his ears caught it. That gasp. It was so real, so panicked, that Stephen became certain that he wasnothallucinating. No, this was Victoria, in the flesh. Only in her flesh. And he just called her by her name.

Of course, that is the problem. The lack of honorifics, not the fact that we are both naked.

“Victoria? What are you?—?”

“Get out!” Her voice was commanding but still low enough so as not to alarm the household.

Stephen was taken aback by how she had come to grips with their situation faster than him. The only proper response to the situation was to remove his hands, turn around, and get out. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

Victoria stepped out of his embrace and practically pushed him back into the bedroom.

Stephen stumbled back into the room and found himself facing a closed door. He blinked a few times before he realized that the dressing room had no other exit. At some point, Victoria would have to step outside with the added advantage of having a whole wardrobe at her disposal to rectify her… nakedness.

While he was left with two options: one undignified and one miserable. He could either wrap himself with warm, dry bedding or wear his soaked clothes. Stephen thought that he could spare both of them further embarrassment and protect whatever shreds of dignity remained, so he put on his wet clothes.

He should be focusing on the way his clothes seemed to be made out of ice or the sheer absurdity of him being screamed out of his own dressing room. And yet his mind had chosen to focus on other things.

On the way she felt under his touch, the way her waist dipped, and the way her hips flared. How soft her skin was. How her large breasts pressed against his chest. How her gasps felt on his skin.

Do not even think of those things!

This was a disaster, and yet his body refused to acknowledge it as one.

The door creaked open, and Victoria emerged with deliberate poise yet obviously flustered. She was wrapped in a deep green dressing gown that hinted at curves he was now shamefully familiar with. Her hair was slightly damp, loose down one side—thoroughly indecent by Society’s standards, but perhaps the least shocking thing about the night.

His eyes landed on a water droplet trickling down her graceful neck, and he followed its slow descent, feeling suddenly thirsty.

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