Page 62 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
“Special,” he repeated softly, his fingers now stroking the skin of her neck beneath her ears. “Aye, it was—itis.”
Between them, his cock had softened, and she was afraid they might be accidentally glued together. She shifted on the desktop, her naked arse sticking to the leather. Hell, she might be glued here as well.
The thought caused the laughter to threaten again. That, and the idea that Titsworth, or one of the maids, would have to be the one to come in here and clean up after this little adventure.
Kit pressed her lips together to keep her laughter contained.
“What’s yer name?” Thorne suddenly whispered, surprising her. “Yer true name. Yer mother didn’t name ye Kit Pastorino, did she?”
Mother hadn’t named herPastorinoat all, but had given her Father’s last name. But after years of being ignored by the man, with the exception of the quarterly hush money bribes, Kit had long ago denied the name.
“K—” The word stuck in her throat, and she had to swallow the laughter to get it said. “Katherine. Katherine Ann.”
“Katherine Ann,” he repeated in a reverent whisper, his gaze on where his fingers caressed her skin. “Kitty Ann. Kat.”
“I’ve—I’ve always been Kit. Since I was born.”
“Kit,” he repeated softly.
Then Thorne took a deep breath, his shoulders expanding as his gaze moved directly back to hers. “Katherine Ann Pastorino, known as Kit. I’ve already been on my knees once today, and I’m enjoying holding ye in this position too much to disengage, so I hope ye’ll forgive me.” He cleared his throat. “Would ye do me the greatest of honors and become my wife?”
And that moment was likely the worst time in the history of terrible timing for Kit to burst into laughter.
But that’s what happened.
The laughter she’d been hiding—mainly because of the joy burbling through her, which had just turned to disbelieving shock—burst from her lips. As Thorne reared back, she tried to do several things at once:
Hold him plastered against her, trying to show him with her body that she wasn’t rejecting him.
Stop the damned laughter.
Explain she wasn’t laughingathim, just the preposterousness of the situation.
Also, breathe.
What ended up happening was she sputtered a few times, which turned into a coughing fit, as Thorne untangled himself completely. Stepping away from her.
“Thorne—no—”
He held up his hand, turning his face away so she couldn’t see his expression. “It’s fine, Kit. I thought—”
“No.” She lunged for him, which caused her to slide from the desk. Her stockinged feet hit the floor and she reached for his cheek, cupping his jaw and turning it back to her. Standing there, bare-arse in his study, she whispered, “Thank you.” These words came easier. More sincerely. “Thank you, Thorne, and I’m sorry.”
