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His eyes softened. Barely—but she saw it. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

“Are you certain, Marianne? You need to be certain. There’s no turning back from this.”

She nodded slowly, then licked her lips. “I’ve never been more certain, Dominic. I can do this.”

“It’s not just another task to tick off your list,” he reminded her gently.

“I know,” she whispered.

Those two words were all it took to draw him in for another kiss.

This time, it was even more urgent, hungrier—if that were possible. His hands roamed over her body with purpose. The long, sweeping touches turned into something slower, more seductive—fingers teasing her pebbled nipples, weighing her heavy breasts.

Marianne moaned softly as pleasure soared within her. Her touches matched his urgency, her hands resting on his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

How could he still be clothed when she was stark naked before him?

Dominic didn’t hesitate. With a fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt.

Marianne gasped at the sight of his muscular chest and broad shoulders. She hadn’t expected a wealthy duke, surrounded by servants and luxury, to look like this.

Her eyes traced the sculpted planes of his stomach down to the faint trail of dark hair dipping into his trousers. The V-shaped muscles she’d only heard about in whispers were very real.

Her husband was magnificent.

“You’re staring, wife,” he murmured, amusement clear in his voice. Not mocking, just tender, lightly teasing.

“I-I can’t help it,” she admitted, her fingers trailing over his muscles.

He was like a Renaissance painting come to life. No, even better.

“Enough looking. I want to touch you. I want to do everything with you. I want to be inside you, cradled by your velvet heat. I want to know if you’re wet for me—ready for this,” he said, gripping her waist and pulling her against his hard length. “Do you feel that? I’m hard for you, and we haven’t even gone beyond kissing.”

“Dominic,” she breathed, rocking her hips against him.

His hardness felt perfect against her needy core.

“Oh, you know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, his voice rough and reassuring as he guided her backward until she fell on the soft, wide couch.

Her heart hammered as she sank into the cushions, wondering where they were. She flushed at the thought that this room might be meant for exactly this kind of tryst.

Dominic quickly joined her, hovering over her. He pressed his lips to hers again—tender but demanding. Their tongues tangled, their breaths mingled. He sucked her tongue deep into his mouth, making her whimper, while his chest brushed against her nipples and his hands memorized every curve.

When his fingers found the sensitive place between her thighs, she gasped, her hips bucking. His low, dark chuckle sent shivers down her spine.

“Patience, little doe,” he murmured.

“Little doe? Shouldn’t the hunter be the patient one?” she gasped, her breath catching as he traced the lips of her sex before slipping a finger inside her.

Another followed.

Heavens.

His fingers moved slowly and steadily in and out, exploring, coaxing. She was slick but still tight, welcoming the fullness that built within her.

“Dominic, please,” she begged, her hips undulating in rhythm with his fingers.

He obeyed, his lips trailing down her neck, pressing gentle kisses until he reached her collarbone. But he wasn’t content. His descent continued even as his fingers worked their magic.