Page 21 of The Duke Who Dared Me
He made a low sound in his throat.Possibly a groan.Possibly muttered a prayer to the Holy Trinity.If she weren’t locked in a closet with him, physically attached to his waist, then it might even be an attractive sound.
She tried again.Her fingers slipped, fumbling with the cursed button.His thigh was warm.Firm.
“Would you stop breathing like that?”she snapped.
“I’m not.You’re the one nearly panting.”
“I’m panicking, panting would imply something else entirely.”
She tugged again, attempting to free herself, and recognized a moment too late just how difficult this was for Alistair.
Verity could feel him through his buckskins.This close, with her hands braced against his thighs to hold steady, she was acutely aware of him.All of him.
He cleared his throat.“You do realize, if anyone opens that door, they’ll find you kneeling at my feet.”
She froze.
His voice was low.Tight.“Told you I’d have you kneeling eventually.”
The roughness in his tone sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.She'd never heard him sound so strained.
She tilted her head, turning it upward slowly so she could meet his eyes.
“Finish that sentence,” she said, “and I’ll break your perfect nose as soon as I can stand.”
A heavy silence followed before he leaned down, his lips barely brushing her temple.“Still sounds worth it, Bug,” he whispered.
His warm breath danced against her skin, and she could feel the slight tremor in his hands as they hovered near her shoulders as if afraid to touch her.
Verity exhaled sharply.“Don’t you dare flirt with me right now, Your Grace.”She pressed against his chest to so as not to fall backwards.Beneath her palm, his heart was racing.The steady thrum matched her own frantic pulse.
“Do you want to be caught?”she hissed.“If my reputation is ruined, you’ll have better odds of winning the wager.No one will marry me.”
“I don’t care about the wager right now.”
“You’re entirely too?—”
She finally yanked her hair free, stumbling upright, and shoved back her curls with a triumphant noise.“Hazzah.”
When she looked up, he was staring at her.
“What?”she snapped.
“Your bodice is crooked,” he said carefully.
Her hand flew up.
“And I am…” His voice trailed off.He cleared his throat.“I am not only thinking about kissing you again.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, lingering on the disheveled neckline of her gown before meeting her eyes again.The hunger there made her knees weak.
Neither of them moved.She wished that musky cologne of his didn’t make her want to taste him.
“You said we shouldn’t shout.”
“I did.”
“And you said if someone heard us?—”
