Page 83 of In Need of a Duke
Like that night, there was an urgency for fear of being caught and for being the first to let go.
“I don’t believe in alchemy, but you’ve bewitched me,” he whispered against her lips.
“You remember?”
“Every damn thing.”
She tightened her arms around his neck, sighing into his mouth as he continued his exploration, far too needy to care about anything at the moment besides finding a bed, perhaps.
“Take me home, Ian,” she repeated.
He laughed, breaking apart and pressing his forehead against hers. “You didn’t say that on that night.”
“I wasn’t your duchess last time.”
“My duchess,” he said, full of wonder. She pressed her hand into his palm and closed her eyes. “I will take you home tonight and every night after.”
Thankfully, it was a short ride to their home in Mayfair.
“Come on,” he said, clutching her hand as soon as the carriage rolled to a stop. He opened the door and helped her down, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead.
She laughed, ducking her head against his chest as they paused for a moment before their home. This would never be a burden, nor would he let it serve as a reminder of what his father had never wanted to be. Ian would do better, and love the woman who wanted to love him, if only he were brave enough to believe it.
As they ascended the stairs, he turned. She collided into him, and Ian caught her, wrapping his arms under her bottom and picking her up.
“You have gone daft,” she laughed, smiling up at him as he carried her up the few remaining stairs and over the threshold.
“You’re dismissed for the evening,” he ordered the butler, never looking back as he carried Charlotte upstairs to his bedchamber.
“Ian, really, I can walk.”
“So can I, and I’m in a rush.”
“Hmm. What is so pressing?”
He peeked down at her, nearly tripping.
“Then I will be honest. I am in a rush to see us in my rooms where I will lock the door, and I don’t believe I will let anyone in for at least a week. All meals will be delivered to the door, and clothing will be optional.”
Instead of answering, her fingers reached up and played with the hair at the nape of his neck, desire racing down his spine. He opened the door, dropped her feet to the floor, and she grasped his neck, wasting no time to press a searing kiss to his mouth.
“Lottie, Lottie,” he whispered against her mouth. Some prayer, some sweet benediction.
He stepped backward, into the middle of his bedchamber, into the soft glow of the fire crackling in the fireplace. His heart ached at the sight of her. He reached for his cravat, eager to untie it.
“No.”
Ian froze.
“You will be patient like I have been. Sit down, Ian.”
Christ.
“You wish to control this, Honeybee? You want to tell me?—”
She grabbed the small chair by the secretary's desk and dragged it before the foot of the bed. “Sit.”
He hung his head, barely able to contain his grin. He walked around the chair, peeking at her as she remained in the middle of the room, still fully clothed, and her lips parted in anticipation. Ian sat down and allowed his hands to relax, waiting, even as everythingwithin him tensed. His cock strained against his trousers as his eyes met hers.
