Page 81 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
There had been so many spectacular kisses since she’d promised to be his, but this one trumped them all. It spoke of longing and admiration and gratitude. And of something else that as yet Evesham didn’t have the courage to put into words.
He stared down into her unforgettable face in wonder. “A goddess, Juliet.”
She studied his features, as though she strove to imprint every line on her mind. But to his regret, the joy drained from her eyes, replaced by something that looked like apprehension.
It seemed that the strength of the emotion between them troubled her, too.
***
Evesham stirred in the tumbled bedclothes and opened eyes dry with tiredness. Bright sunlight poured through the open window, and birds sang outside. It wasn’t late, but he could tell that dawn had passed several hours ago.
In his arms, Juliet slept. She was pale and drawn, and her lips were full and bruised after hours of kissing.
After the eventful night, his limbs ached with weariness. Sublime weariness.
He was in no hurry to get up, so he closed his eyes and nestled her closer. Her back was pressed into his chest, and she was loose with exhaustion. With a tender gesture, he cupped her breast. She was a woman of sumptuous curves.
Evesham was nearly asleep again, when she shifted with a muffled protest. His hold on her tightened. He didn’t want her moving. He wanted her staying just where she was.
But she was awake. She turned in his arms to kiss him softly on the lips. He found himself staring into eyes cloudy with drowsiness.
“Good morning, Lucas.”
“Good morning, Juliet,” he murmured in return and brushed the heavy tangle of hair back from her face with sleepy appreciation.
After the night’s excesses, her features were subtly changed. Her expression conveyed a new sensual awareness. She looked like a woman who understood passion. It made her even more exciting. She’d always been beautiful. Now that beauty blazed like a beacon.
“I didn’t mean to go to sleep.” Her voice was husky with sleep. It reminded him of how she’d sounded when he was deep inside her. After everything they’d done to each other into the early hours, he shouldn’t have the energy for sexual interest.
He shouldn’t, but he did.
Nonetheless, he wasn’t a barbarian. He’d tried to be as considerate as possible, but by the end, he’d noticed Juliet’s discomfort. So when his dick twitched into life, he told it to behave.
“Nor did I,” he said ruefully. “Are you hungry?”
He was desperate to keep to the most prosaic topics. Because he was deathly afraid that despite everything that had happened, she might still mean to leave him.
He’d learned to respect her will. Hadn’t she defied two dukes and a furious father to face her disgrace alone?
“Yes,” she said.
He’d arranged for an extravagant supper to be served in the dressing room last night. An empty bottle of champagne that they’d drunk in the early hours sat on the chest near the door with a half-eaten tray of pastries beside it.
“I’ll dress and go down to arrange breakfast. Shall we eat up here?”
Wanton mischief lit her eyes. “I don’t mean I’m hungry for food.”
“Juliet…” The rest of the sentence disappeared in a frantic gulp, as she shaped her fingers around his stiffening cock.
Last night, at first she’d been shy, but she’d soon picked up on his endless appetite for her and she’d become bolder. He’d loved watching her lay claim to herself as a woman with physical needs. He’d loved satisfying those physical needs even more.
Somewhere before midnight, he’d given her a breathtaking lesson in how to touch his prick. The lesson hadn’t lasted very long, but now she demonstrated that she’d understood the essentials. She ran her hand along his length, squeezing and releasing him in a way that drove everything but need from his mind.
Her grip tightened, and she leaned in to kiss him again, with more purpose. So far, while she’d been gratifyingly cooperative, he’d taken the lead. It seemed that the tables had turned.
“You’re out to seduce me?” he grated out.
“Is it working?”
