Page 25 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
She gasped at the force and suddenness of his maneuver, and her heart lurched to her throat. Her body became rigid and frozen in place as she stared up at him in shock.
Wilhelm watched her body react to his powerful touch. He took notice of the subtle change in her breathing and the way she had stiffened like a cornered rabbit, but he could also detect a degree of vulnerability and innocence.
Was it possible that she was still a virgin? That her first husband had perished before he had the chance to consummate their marriage?
The thought excited Wilhelm more than he would admit. If Genevieve was untouched, unclaimed… it meant that all of her would belong to him.
He reached out one hand and gently ran his fingers across her lips. Genevieve flinched, and her breathing quickened, further confirming his suspicions.
“Have you ever been touched before?” he asked as he continued tracing her lips with his fingers.
He smiled faintly as he felt her stiffen at his question.
“Excuse me?” she blinked, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Have you ever been touched before?” he repeated slowly and deliberately, savoring the way her blush deepened.
He was not trying to be cruel, but there was something intoxicating about her reaction. He relished the flush that crept up her cheeks and the way she turned her head slightly to avoid his gaze. He found himself captivated by the vulnerability in her expression.
Genevieve was not one to show weakness.
“You know,” he began, his voice low, leaning in just enough to make his words sound more intimate. “Your previous husband died mere hours after your wedding. I cannot help but wonder…”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle between them, watching her as her features tightened.
“Could it mean that you are completely inexperienced?”
She sucked in a sharp breath as the color drained from her face, then returned with renewed intensity and spread across her neck and cheeks.
Her eyes quickly darted away. Was it due to embarrassment? Annoyance?
“I am certain that he kissed you at the altar, did he not?” Wilhelm continued, his voice deliberately soft. “But all kisses are different, do you not agree? Perhaps that experience was unlike ours… at our wedding.”
Genevieve’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, her body betraying her emotions. The flush on her cheeks deepened, but there was now something else in her expression—reluctance.
He could feel a subtle shift in the way she leaned into him, as though the vibrations between them were becoming too much for her to bear.
“Perhaps it is time that I showed you what a real kiss is like,” he said.
And then, his lips crashed down on hers.
There was no hesitation now. All of her resistance melted in an instant, her body responding to his in ways that sent a lightning bolt of desire straight through him.
Her hands slid up to his shoulders, and for a split second, it felt as though she intended to push him away. But then her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pulled him closer, meeting his kiss with an urgency that gave him shockwaves of pleasure.
“You are exquisite,” he murmured against her hungry mouth as his fingers traced the delicate contours of her face.
She exhaled faintly, her breath warm, her lips lingering against his own. Her deep blue eyes, half-lidded from the intensity of their kiss, slowly widened as a sudden realization sparked within them—a flicker of alarm that he could feel as it radiated from her.
Her gaze shifted, and she studied his face intently as if searching for some hidden answer.
Then, in one sharp motion, she wrenched herself free and stepped away from him as if she had been scalded.
She looked at him with narrowed eyes and a hardened gaze, her lips pursed in fury.
Or was it fear?
Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled, her steps quick and silent as she crossed the room, the only sound the soft rustle of her nightgown.
