Page 47 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
“Christ,lass, I’ve been falling hard for ye. I told ye my friends suggested I woo ye, which confused the shite out of me, but I was ready to do it. I loveye, Kit, nae matter what clothing ye wear.”
He heard her little exhale of surprise. “You…what?”
Hm.Perhaps, if he never brought it up again, this clever little valet of his would forget he’d ever said the L-word. Or at least pretend to forget.
To distract her, he tugged Kit’s hand, and she slowly rose and shifted across the seat. But one of the wheels hit a cobblestone, or a hole, or possibly a stray llama, and when she lurched forward, he caught her. Caught her, and eased her down into his lap.
Where she belonged.
“A woman,” he murmured, running his hands up her arms. “It’s so obvious, and yet so hard to believe.”
Kit’s hand, a hand he knew so well, rose to his cheek, pressing her palm to his skin. “I’m still the same person.”
His bark of laughter surprised him. “Aye, I ken it…it’s just…”
He nudged the lapel of her jacket, and she helped push it over her shoulders. It pooled on the floor, and he tried to make a mental note to grab it, but then she was reaching for the buttons of her waistcoat, and he became rather distracted.
His fingertips traced the skin of her jaw, then her throat, as she pulled her necktie away and tackled her shirt buttons. Somewhere along the way, Kit had straddled his thighs instead of merely sitting on his lap, and Thorne…
God Almighty, Thorne was more than happy to give her free reign.
When her shirt and waistcoat gaped open in the dim light, the pale wrapping she wore around her chestgleamed.
“Kit,” he whispered, almost reverently, reaching for those wrappings. He watched his hands against the cotton as they plucked at the strips, almost without his guidance, finding the end and tugging it free.
She arched into his touch. “Please, Thorne.” Her whimper cut through his haze, piercing his arousal with something like desperation, and then he was yanking and tugging, until the cotton strips fell loose and pooled around her hips.
He sucked in an awed breath. To be presented with so muchperfection…
With a nearly silent groan, his palms closed around her small breasts, cupping them reverently.
Her moan wasn’t nearly as quiet.
“Thorne, I—Dio Benedetto!”
Her exclamation came when he brushed both his thumbs across her nipples, and he could feel himself smirking in the darkness. He didn’t know the words—presumably Italian, picked up from her mother?—but he loved that she was reacting this way to him.
“Aye, lass. Let me love these beauties, hm?” He slid his hands around her bare back, under her shirt, pulling her closer. “A shame to hide their light away from the world,” he murmured, right before his lips found her skin.
She hissed and arched into his touch, her hands rising to his hair, her fingers digging into his scalp to hold him in place.
As the carriage rocked slowly through the streets of London, Thorne used his tongue and his fingers to show Kit his talents. He might struggle to keep a dukedom afloat, he might not be able to singlehandedly bring down Blackrose… But he could love a woman with his eyes closed, as if his life depended on it.
Aye, his hands and his mouth knew all the right things to make her moan and pant, but hismind… Dear Christ, his mind was a pleasant sort of beige pudding, still amazed thiswomanin his arms was the valet he’d been falling in love with.
This wasKit.
And therefore, the well-practiced moves seemed somehow stale and boring. He wanted to bring her something new and special, something which showed her how new and special she was tohim.
His hand swept lower, past her waist in the back, to her arse, pulling her closer. Pulling her against him.
And when she gasped, he knew she’d feltwhy.
His cock strained against his trousers, throbbing in time to her pulse, which he even now tasted at the base of her throat. “Aye, Kit,” he growled, urging her to move against him, craving it. “That’s the way. Ye feel that?”
“Thorne! Oh,fook,” she groaned, rocking her hips forward and back in a steady rhythm.
And he had to grin at hearing his own word from her lips. He caught her by the back of the neck and pulled her mouth to his, claiming her once more, as he pulled his hand from behind her to reach for her breast again. When he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she released a moan, low in her throat, which he caught on his lips and echoed right back to her.
