Page 75 of The Duke's Second Bride
Ava reached across to brush a crumb from Luke’s sleeve, her tone brightening. “But I always found friends elsewhere. The animals on the estate were better companions than any governess. Dogs and horses, especially. They never cared if my hair was out of place.”
Luke’s eyes lit. “Like Pudding?”
“Exactly like Pudding,” Ava said, chuckling. “Though the cows never climbed into my lap at tea.”
Luke burst into laughter at the thought. The heaviness in Christian’s chest eased at the sight, though a protective vow still burned in him like iron: she would never again be made to feel unwanted.
Not under his roof. Not while she bore his name.
Ava met his gaze across the table, and for a moment, the laughter softened into something quiet, almost reverent. She had turned a boy’s innocent question into a story of resilience and warmth.
Christian silently admired her strength.
Still, he promised himself and her, silently, that she’d never have to spin light out of shadows.
The house had grown hushed after dinner, the lingering echo of Luke’s laughter fading into the quiet of the halls.
Ava let Christian lead her upstairs, their hands brushing together as though they were newlyweds instead of a married couple weeks into their union.
The candles burned low, throwing golden light against the walls, gilding his hair and shoulders as they walked.
Once in their chamber, he drew the door closed with deliberate care. The sound of the latch clicking into place sent a thrill up her spine.
She knew that look in his eyes now, the one that promised she would not fall asleep untouched.
Christian stood before her, tall and commanding in his shirt-sleeves. His gaze roamed over her with a reverence that left her breathless.
“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmured. “Luke thinks you hung the stars.”
Ava’s lips curved. “And what about you?” she teased softly.
“I think he underestimates you,” he replied, his voice low, roughened with feeling.
Her cheeks warmed. He stepped closer, and she felt the heat of him, his presence so large it seemed to press against her skin even before his hands found her waist.
“Christian…” she whispered, her voice more plea than word.
His fingers traced the edge of her bodice, skimming upward until his palm cupped her cheek. He tilted her face, studying her as though he could memorize every shift in her expression.
“Tell me what you desire,” he said quietly.
She met his gaze, heart hammering. “You. I want you, Christian.”
“Mmm,” he whispered, “that’s my good girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.”
His mouth claimed hers, hot and hungry, his kiss demanding and unyielding. Her knees weakened under the force of it, and she clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened until she felt nothing but the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he devoured her like a man starved. He guided her backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he lowered her with a care that contrasted deliciously with the urgency of his mouth.
Her gown loosened beneath his hands, fabric sliding down her arms like water. He kissed each newly bared inch of skin, his lips reverent, worshipful, as though she were something sacred.
Ava gasped, her body arching toward him.
“Christian…” she breathed, fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses along her collarbone.
He lifted his head, his eyes molten. “Do you know what you do to me?”
“Tell me,” she whispered.
