Page 77 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“I think I must.”
Her thorough survey covered every hard line of his torso. The firm pectorals. Ridges of muscle across his flat stomach. Bronze-colored nipples nestled among dark curls of hair.
The curls arrowed down the center of his body to a thicker nest of hair at the base of his belly. Even now, his rod looked too large to fit inside her.
But of course, it had. With superb results. The afterglow of those extraordinary moments made her blood swirl like a lazy river. Subjecting him to this slow, sensual inspection stirred more of those feelings.
In the confined space behind the screen, she breathed in the spicy scent of virile male. A rush of damp heat between her legs had her pressing her thighs together.
He groaned, and his hands opened and closed at his sides, as if he fought the urge to grab her. A wanton thrill ripped through her at the thought.
“Maybe you should go back to bed,” he said through his teeth.
“Will you join me?” Her fall from grace meant she could be as brazen as she liked.
The glance that he sent her seared her skin. “In a moment.”
His interest was stirring, too. The flesh between his legs showed signs of coming to life.
“May I touch you then?”
He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle danced in his cheek. “Juliet, it’s your first time. You might need to recover, before I start heaving about on top of you again.”
She realized with a spurt of warmth that had nothing to do with heightened excitement that he was being considerate again. “I don’t want to waste our time together.”
“And I don’t want to cause you any physical harm.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair in the characteristic gesture. Her eyes fastened with utter fascination on the way the muscles of his chest moved. He groaned. “Stop it, or I’ll forget my good intentions.”
She gave him the sort of assured, sensual smile that she’d never imagined herself capable of. But she wasn’t the restrained, careful lady she’d been all her life. Or at least until she met this enticing example of masculinity. Lucas’s hunger for her lent her a confidence in herself as a woman that she’d never known.
It might be wicked, but she’d never been so happy. Until now, she’d lived her life behind a pane of glass. Now she lived in the moment.
“I speak from experience when I say good intentions are overrated.”
His grunt expressed wry amusement. “Let me have a wash, then we can talk about it.”
That sounded promising. She hitched the sheet up and returned to the bed. Her body felt different, too. Panic had swamped her immediate awareness of the way her muscles protested at any sudden movement. Muscles that she hadn’t even known she possessed.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked from behind the screen. She heard the splash of water as he washed.
She propped herself up against the pillows. “I was remembering how the night before her wedding, I told Viola what her husband would do to her in bed. It turns out that I had no idea. What you did to me went way beyond anything that I ever imagined.”
He emerged from behind the screen, carrying a large bowl and with a couple of towels draped over his arm. To her regret, he’d wrapped another towel around his waist.
“In a good way?”
Her lips quirked. “Are you chasing compliments?”
Lucas set the bowl on the nightstand and shot her a smiling glance that made her stomach knot with helpless longing. “Given some of the things you’ve said to me, can you blame me?”
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. You made me afraid that—”
“That we’d end up doing what we just did?”
“Perhaps not in so many words, but I’d never been attracted to a man before. I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to handle…you.”
“You have my permission to handle me as much as you wish.” His lips twitched. “Once I’ve made you comfortable. You’ll feel more the thing after a wash. May I remove that frightfully becoming sheet?”
Given what he’d just done to her, it seemed silly to balk at revealing her nakedness. “Yes.”
