Page 67 of The Duke Says I Do
“Take down your hair.” The words emerged as a command. This close to the edge, soft entreaties were beyond him.
She pouted again. Somewhere since he’d stumbled across her in Wapping and now, she’d learned a coquette’s tricks. Damn it, those tricks worked far too well. “I’ve got to do all the work?”
A self-derisive laugh. “Better I keep my hands to myself for the moment.”
The answer didn’t placate her. “From whose point of view?”
“Portia…” he growled with a mixture of reproof and pleading.
She sighed and lifted graceful arms to the loose confection of gold curls. The posture arched her back and raised her opulent bosom until she threatened to overflow her dress. Her eyes made promises that she was his for the asking.
Her gaze clung to his as very slowly, she drew out a pin. One long tress unraveled downward.
Air was suddenly in short supply. Something about the leisured play of her hands in that shining mass of hair and the sulky look on her face turned Granville’s blood to steam.
She must guess how aroused he was, because the next pin came out even more slowly. She held it in her hand before dropping it to the carpet.
His hands closed so tight that they ached. How could she do this when he wasn’t touching her? How could she do this when he’d already lost himself twice this evening?
For pity’s sake, she was touching her hair. Only her hair.
How the devil was he ready to explode, just looking at her bedamned hair?
Another three pins. Another three serpentine locks draping those magnificent curves. Another shuddering inhalation from Granville.
Most of her hair remained up, displaying her slender neck. To his surprise – and discomfort – she stopped playing with her coiffure and her hands descended to filmy blue skirts.
“What are you doing?” Could that strangled voice be his?
Her glance was searing enough to melt iron. Portia knew exactly what she was doing and she relished every moment. “Undressing.”
Granville closed his eyes in frustration. Only briefly, because he didn’t want to miss a moment of the spectacular show. “God help me.”
Her lips twitched. She didn’t look sulky anymore. She looked exultant. If at first his experience had given him an advantage, now they were equals in this sensual world.
Inch by inch, she lifted her skirts. Tormenting him, and glorying in his agony.
His attention dropped from that goddess’s face to neat ankles above narrow feet in blue satin slippers. Shapely legs encased in white silk stockings. Higher still to pretty sky-blue garters. She sent him another of those goading glances that threatened to turn him to smoking ash. His breath rasped out, as if he was in danger of suffocation.
Whatever she saw must please her, because skirts and petticoats rose to uncover loose drawers. White, so delicate that they were near-transparent, edged with lace. The drawers split at the crotch to reveal feathery pubic hair.
His groan echoed around the room. Her smile intensified, as she caught her skirts in one hand and settled the other over her mound. “Goodness me, how…damp I am,” she purred.
Every inch of his body caught fire. She’d kill him before she was done.
“Portia…” He pressed his palm to the throbbing weight of his erection. It didn’t help. “You’re enjoying this.”
His accusation gratified her, he could see. “Indeed I am.”
Her fingers shifted to the string on her drawers. One deft tug and it came loose. The garment sagged to reveal the sinuous curve of her hips. A couple of fiendish wiggles, and her drawersdropped to her feet. Without looking down, she stepped out of them. Instead, she watched Granville with an avid attention almost as arousing as the sight of her disrobing.
“Turn around,” he croaked, crushing his hand to his rampant stand.
He wasn’t sure that she’d obey. She’d seized control of the encounter. But praise all the angels – or Satan himself, because there was nothing angelic about this seduction – she presented her back. Bunched skirts covered her to behind her knees.
“Lift your dress.” His voice sounded like it scraped over broken glass.
Again, she obeyed, although she didn’t hurry. By the time he glimpsed the lush flesh of her bare buttocks, he feared that he was losing his mind.
