Page 71 of The Love Potion
He shrugged. “You had read the books, and you asked the questions.”
She shook her head. “You say I am precious, and yet you have no idea how rare a man you are. A duke without arrogance, onewho is kind to someone as unimportant as me. If you said you could grab a star from the sky, I would believe you.”
He chuckled. “You are not that foolish. You know I am flesh and blood like everyone else.”
She touched his mouth, traced the curve of his jaw, and stroked fire along his neck. “If you want me, Your Grace, I am yours.” She quirked a brow at him. “Or do I go to Ireland?”
Ireland? What did that have to do with anything?
“You come to me,” he said.
He kissed her. Not a gentle kiss as before or even a teasing one. This time, he took her mouth with the fierceness of a man staking his claim. He thrust inside her. He dominated her tongue and teeth as if he were a warrior born to possess her. And when she made a sound of hunger, when she grabbed his arms and held on with strength, he broke their kiss and scooped her up in his arms.
“Your Grace!” she cried.
“Ras!” he commanded. “Say my name.”
“Ras,” she whispered. Then she arched her brows at him. “Erasmus Oliver Arthur Stace, Duke of Harle.”
He groaned. “Ras is plenty.” Then he carried her to his bed, setting her down gently before diving in for another kiss. He wanted to say more to her. He wanted to declare himself. He could command her to be his wife, not his mistress. But she entwined her fingers in his hair, and she smelled like vanilla honey against his lips. And part of him knew that she wouldn’t believe him anyway. She was as swept away as he.
So he enjoyed the rush, and he vowed to make this her first of many awakenings in his bed.
The priest would have to wait until tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He called herprecious. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful star in the sky. What woman could resist that? Not her. And so she let herself experience it. She felt his hands on her dress, pulling open the buttons. She let him kiss her with such need that her own heart responded. So fast. So hungry. Both of them, and yet he seemed to know what he was doing while she fell into the storm he created in her.
He unbuttoned her dress completely, and she helped him pull it off. She hadn’t bothered with stays and so all that remained was her shift as he peeled her gown down. He cupped her breast through the thin fabric, thumbing her nipple while she felt her excitement surge and recede. She rushed for his mouth in a frenzy of desire. Then when the passion became too much, she pulled back to take in great gulps of air. The excitement simmered instead of boiled, and she had the awareness to push off his evening jacket and stroke the solid planes of his chest.
She rubbed her nail across the nub of his nipple and was pleased to hear a rumble deep inside his chest.
“You like that?” she asked.
“Yes.”
A simple answer was all he offered because he was busy trailing his teeth along her jaw. And when she lifted up her chin, he nibbled down the side of her neck. Such feelings he stirred in her! She didn’t think her shoulder could be that sensitive, butshe felt his breath upon her skin and wondered how she had ever lived without experiencing this before.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said.
“What?”
He ripped her shift in half. She jolted in surprise at the sound, but when the cool air hit her skin, she arched in delight at the feeling. And then he caught her nipple in his mouth, and she was lost to the stroke of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. Perhaps that was what she loved the most. She never knew what he would do next. There was no rhythm to his strokes, no pattern to anticipate. If she settled into one, he changed it. That kept her attention, increased her passion, and let her experience so much more.
She tried to touch him, but the storm was too much for her. She could only grip his shoulders, and then, as he kissed down her belly, she ran her fingers through his hair. The brush of his curls felt sensual against her skin. And then he kissed intohercurls.
She tensed, remembering what he had done in the tack room. That had been wonderful, but surely he meant for something else tonight.
“Your Grace?” she gasped.
He held her hips down with his hands, spread large across her belly.
“Ras,” he corrected.
“What are you doing, Ras?” she asked.
He flashed her a wicked grin. “Do you trust me?”
