Page 3 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Think–”

“For one second.”

“For one second. One!”

“Just–”

“Oh!” Margaret grew alarmed. Something slimy had wrapped itself around her foot. “I’m caught.”

“Margaret, please.”

“I’m serious, Jonathan. I think my foot is caught in some weeds.” He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, as if he was counting now.

“Listen to me. Do not move. Even one inch.” He removed his hand from over his eyes.

“That’s impossible. I have to move to stay afloat.”

“Just. Don’t.” He pushed his hands up his face and off his cheeks, in a washing motion. “Please. Let me.”

His staccato syntax bewildered Margaret into acquiescence. She tried folding her arms across her chest in defiance, but found her best bet was to swirl her arms, slowly churning the water while she held her legs as still as possible.

As she found her stride of stillness, Jonathan gave her a look. Had she known it was the last look of innocence that would pass between them, she may have tried to memorize it and lock it away into her stash. Instead, she saw some combination of dread, angst, and something else she didn’t quite recognize.

Then he ducked his head under the water, and she was never the same again.

Chapter 2

THESECONDJONATHANDUCKEDunder the water, Margaret knew everything had changed. The arm movements to keep herself afloat caused her nightgown to swirl about her waist leaving her bare legs completely exposed to Jonathan. She had no way of knowing whether or not his eyes were open, but it didn’t matter. Everything she needed to know she felt in his touch.

Her entire body went on alert as his hand flickered against her hip, then blazed a pathway down her leg to track down exactly where the weeds were. Only, the blaze was not restricted to where his hand touched. Oh, it started there. It sparked there. But it ignited something altogether uncontainable. Her breaths began coming in faster and her arms forgot the pattern they had been mixing to keep her still in the water.

A hand shot up to grab her arms, in all likelihood to keep her still, but the movement shocked her and somehow her free leg had wound itself around Jonathan’s back. So at that moment, her left leg was hanging down his back and her right leg was stuck in the weeds in front of him. To her horror, this meant that her honeypot was straddling the top of his shoulder where it met his neck. She was sure that liquid heat was seeping out of her onto his bare flesh. She could feel his ear against her lower abdomen and although she was shocked, and although she should have pushed him away, all she wanted to do was press herself into him more.

And then he went preternaturally still. In hindsight, the moment couldn’t have been anything other than the shortest split second pause, yet in that instant a lifetime’s worth of thoughts flooded her mind.

This was the man who had always been her fiercest, yet cheeriest competitor. He was one hundred percent reliably the smile she could count on and the jab she could counter. This was the devil may care, all for the love of fun–and the win–man who was her brother’s best friend. He was the one who had understood her from the beginning. It felt as though he could read her thoughts, and more frightening, her intentions. He knew just how much to push her in a challenge and how many times he could best her before she needed a win.

And now the heat between her legs was pressing into the side of his neck and the top of his shoulder. She couldn’t help herself. Like the force of gravity that pulled Newton's apple down, the same intensity pulled her down onto him.

And then she felt the briefest brush of lips against her inner thigh and her body shattered. Hundreds of thousands of scales fell off her and floated away in the pond. The infinitesimal touch charged through her and the jolt forced her hand into his hair. To what? Hold him there forever underwater? She had no rational thought in the moment, only the undulating sensations caused by his touch.

If only she had predicted his next action, she may have been able to save herself years of heartache, but how was she to know he was just as overwhelmed by arousal and underwhelmed by reason as her? She knew him as carefree, unattached. He had no real emotions. Not really. Until now.

He turned his nose and mouth to the valley between her thighs and nuzzled against her. Her shoulders fell down and her head fell back. All of time stood still and the planet stopped mid-orbit. Where was the sun? It was blazing within her.

If she thought there was a fire before, it had now turned into an inferno. There was no thought, only reaction. She arched into him.

And then waited. Panting.

She felt his forehead against her inner thigh and his hand run down her foot until she felt him pull the weeds away. She was free. In some ways.

She was free to move her leg, but more significantly, she was free to explore this heat and passion.

And then all of a sudden he bobbed out of the water, and they were face to face. She stared into his chestnut eyes. The same eyes that had seen her ride hell for leather ahead of him in their ongoing races. The same eyes that had dared her to look up and always climb just one more branch higher. The same eyes that had seen her as a young girl were now seeing her as a woman, and they weren’t looking at her in any way she’d seen before. His eyes had turned dark and they burned into her, like black smoldering embers deceivingly too hot to touch.

She didn’t know how, but her legs had wrapped around his waist, with a vice like grip. In a hoarse voice, he whispered, “Are you okay?”

She nodded, having lost all control of her tongue.

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