Page 50 of Rules for Heiresses
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Looking at you.”
And he was. He could look at her until the end of time and still not have his fill. Half-dressed and mussed, her body still quivering with pleasure beneath that gossamer scrap of a chemise, his wife was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Everything about her captivated him—her effortless beauty, that smart tongue, her razor-sharp mind, that dauntless spirit. She was twisting him into knots he never wished to escape.
Fuck. She could demolish him without even trying. He stood there uncertainly for a moment, his own arousal coursing through him, but his usual demons were not gone, just momentarily subdued. He would destroy her—destroy that incredible spirit. His unsteady hands stalled on his waistcoat buttons.
Blast, he couldn’t do this.
Fourteen
Ravenna saw the doubt and the unworthiness start to creep in like the poisons they were. She would not have it, not now, not when this was the most unguarded and open she’d ever seen him. Not now, when he wasreal. Pushing up to her elbows, uncaring of her own nudity, her gaze held him. “Stay with me.”
Panicked dark eyes shot to hers, nostrils flaring. “I—”
“No, stop. You promised me one night. No dukes, no heiresses. Just you and me. Are you so faithless as to renege on your word?”
“Promise me you won’t want more than this, Ravenna.” His voice was tortured. “I couldn’t bear disappointing you. Can you do that?”
“Fine.”
Clearly torn, he let out a breath. “I don’t want to hurt you when this is over.”
“You won’t. Now strip, lover.”
Shehoped. Deep down, though, Ravenna had the feeling that a man as closed off as he was would hurt her without even knowing it. The fortress that surrounded his heart would not let anyone get too close. Not even his wife. But if she wanted him—and she did—she would simply have to separate the two…the physical desire from the emotional attachment. Not insurmountable, but not easy either.
This was about pleasure, not intimacy.
Ravenna adjusted herself and crossed her bare legs, seeing his hungry gaze instantly go to them. The pose was provocative, though she hadn’t meant it to be. Notwithstanding the fact that she was nearly naked in a location that was not a private bedchamber and a man who had just pleasured her to infinity was staring down at her like she was his last meal, a beat of shyness pulsed through her. She almost giggled. Said man had just spent a great deal of time lodged between her thighs, his sinful mouth pressed to her most intimate place, devouring his fill.
At this point, modesty was laughable.
A devious smile curled her lips as she remembered what the boatswains on the clipper had said about mouths goingthere. It had seemed shocking, unpleasant even, but disgust had been the last thing on her mind in the moment. No, her mind had been teetering on the knife edge of pleasure until Courtland’s sleek tongue had hurled her off into the abyss.
Summoning her inner temptress, Ravenna peered up at him, bringing a knuckle up to her lower lip and brushing it back and forth. An obsidian gaze lifted to fix on the movement. “One would think a man of your considerable…acumen could follow simple instruction.” Her hand drifted down toward the ribbon at her throat, and his hot stare followed the teasing path of her fingers. “Do I need to resort to more overt tactics?”
Ravenna lifted her upper body off the bench, and in one swoop, tugged the fine lawn of her chemise off her shoulders. She resisted the natural urge to cover herself and, instead, stretched like a contented kitten. She felt herself heat from the force of the gaze snapping to her exposed breasts, but not with embarrassment. With pleasure. The way he looked at her was the exact opposite of apathy.
The growl ripping from his chest urged her on. Her palm skated across her stomach, inching up in slow, torturous strokes to the underside of her breast. With each ragged heartbeat that threatened to punch through her ribs, she felt his resolve lessen, saw the smoldering lust in his eyes rise. She gasped as her knuckles grazed over a taut nipple.
“Will you make me beg, Courtland?” she whispered.
It broke the spell holding him in thrall.
Within seconds, the buttons from the waistcoat scattered on the flagstones in his haste to get it off. A ripping sound followed, the cravat torn from his neck, before his trousers were shoved down and his shirt yanked over his head. Within seconds, the duke was as bare as he was born, and she’d never seen a more heart-palpitating, lip-smacking sight in all her life. She had to remind herself to breathe.
Because the man was magnificent.
Ravenna had seen countless other men shirtlessandpantless before. One could not live on a ship with dozens of sailors without being exposed to bare chests and random sightings of a bare arse or two, but none of those men had been built like this. None of them had ever made her feel such uncontrollable yearnings, such bone-deep desire. She wanted to leap up and bear her prize to the floor, staking her claim over that splendidly sculpted body like a lioness on the prowl.
“Still wish to beg, Duchess?”
Registering the smirk on his lips, she wanted to retort with some smart response, but instead, she went with the truth. “I’m way past begging now. We’re into the part where pouncing and having my wicked way with you seems more fitting.”
His deep rumble of laughter was music to her ears. Ravenna lifted her eyes to his, seeing his soft expression. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d licked her lips and wiped her mouth with a napkin. He had to know how attractive he was. Had other women seen him thus? She ignored the spike of jealousy that lanced through her. He was a man, and given his stellar performance earlier, was not lacking in either experience or skill.
“Do you often get this reaction from women?” she teased.
