Page 45 of Never Dare a Duke
“You know there are so many more. I did not mean this to happen. I really only wanted to help you. I still do! And now you must think…”
He leaned closer, his lips just touching hers as he spoke against her mouth. “So now you know what I think? Then tell me, because I can remember nothing when I’m holding you like this.”
Every movement of his lips against hers made her tremble all the more. She hovered on the edge of giving up, of giving in and letting him do what he wished.
“You’re thinking of…nothing?” she whispered, then regretted it, for she could feel his mouth so intimately.
His lips continued to brush hers. “I am thinking of licking a path down your throat, and dipping my tongue in the scented hollow at the base.”
She gave a strangled moan as her imagination filled in the picture.
“You taste of sweet peaches, and I want to see if that continues.”
For a moment, he kissed her lower lip, then sucked on it gently. She shivered even though he held her so tight she thought she’d never be cold again. But she couldn’t stop her body’s response.
“I noticed your bodice unbuttons down the front.”
She held her breath in shock that he would mention such an intimate thing.
“I’m thinking of unbuttoning them one at a time, dipping my tongue between your sweet breasts, then popping them free from your corset, so that I—”
“Enough!” Her voice was a cry of pain and desire so mixed together that she felt lost. She didn’t want to know what he would do with her nakedness. Nothing seemed to matter but this unfulfilled ache within her and the knowledge that he could make it right.
But this was a sin. And a lie—another lie between them.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
For the barest moment, his hold tightened, her breasts were almost too painful against his chest.
And then his embrace eased, and she sat up, sliding to the attic floor and turning to rise onto her knees. Without thinking, she reached to steady herself against his shoulder, then realized that he was staring at her breasts, too close to his face. A wanton woman would lean into him, persuade him to make her feel so good she would never want to leave him.
But she was no wanton. She was a virgin, and she had invaded his home to deceive him. What a struggle it would be to remain objective after this!
She rose quickly to her feet, and he followed her lead. Though she could still hear the occasional spatter of rain on the roof, the curtains seemed to be letting in more light. She returned the books to the trunk, trying to pretend that he was not still watching her. It was embarrassing to lean over before him, and exciting, because she was half-afraid, half-hopeful that he would touch her. He didn’t offer to help her, which only prolonged the moment. She was flushed by the time she straightened.
“Can you see well enough,” he said, “or should I lead you?”
She couldn’t bear the thought of what she might reveal if he touched her. “I shall manage.”
And she was hurt that he sounded so normal, as if he did such things all the time.
Did he think the same of her?
She imagined him a much younger man, without the wisdom and experience to control his impulses. What had he done with such passion?
She walked before him to the stairs, fumbled for a moment until she found the rail, then descended carefully.
From behind, she heard, “I will remain here for several minutes until you have had a chance to reach your room. Is it far?”
“No, just a floor down.”
As if he needed to know that, she thought, closing her eyes in dismay.
She had already learned her lesson where caution was concerned, so she leaned her ear against the door before opening it. When she heard nothing, she went through. As she turned to close the door, she found the duke holding on to the lintel over her head with both hands, leaning toward her.
Softly, he said, “My sister says your hobby is historical costumes?”
She looked frantically back and forth to see if anyone was coming. “It is,” she hissed, “but what has that to do with anything?”
