Page 65 of The Duke's Second Bride
“Well …” Christian began, looking down at the cat, then back up at his wife. “The cat was already here when I began my work,” he protested.
“So, the cat has finally earned your favor, then?” Ava questioned.
Christian huffed, brushing at his sleeve as if offended. “Favor? Hardly. I merely tolerate its existence. Do not mistake my civility for fondness.”
If Pudding had been asleep before, he was awake now. He jumped up and off Christian’s lap onto the desk, where he went into a long stretch. Then he jumped down to the floor and squeezed easily through the cracked door out of the study and into the hallway.
“How noble of you,” Ava said.
With Christian’s lap newly relieved of its previous occupant, she decided to take the opportunity to take that space for herself. She sat neatly on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“What about me? Are you keeping me on your lap because of pure civility?” she teased.
“No,” Christian murmured. His eyes traced a deliberate path down her face and neck, lingering at the curve of her dress, and Ava felt herself shiver at the intensity of his gaze. “It is … because I have no other place I would rather have you.”
“Is that so?” Ava asked. He leaned in to kiss her, and she leaned away teasingly, eliciting a growl from him.
“Yes,” he said, voice low and steady, yet thick with something unspoken. His hands rested lightly on her hips, not quite possessive, but undeniably controlling, keeping her anchored tohim. “It would be unwise for you to sit anywhere else. I cannot be responsible for what I might do if you were out of reach.”
Ava felt heat creep to her cheeks, a flutter in her chest. The way he looked at her—calm, commanding, and yet entirely focused—made it impossible to speak, impossible to think, impossible to ignore the pull between them.
“What about now, then, that I am here?” she challenged, biting her lip.
“Oh … Let me show you, then,” he smirked and leaned forward again, this time managing to successfully capture her mouth.
She pressed deeper into the kiss, allowing his tongue deeper access into her mouth.
Her hands roamed the unfortunately clothed expanse of his shoulders and back, all of which were broad and strong and muscled and warm beneath her palms.
As she squeezed his back, he let out a moan into her mouth, which she returned in kind. The sound seemed to spur him onwards, spur both of them onwards. He stood, lifting her onto the desk, so that he could sit her upon it.
Ava clung to him all the more tightly for stability. She drew him closer, and he acquiesced to her unspoken demand by coming closer still, pressing between her thighs, against the spread of her skirt.
“I have been thinking about nothing but you all day,” he murmured against her lips. “All day, I have been trapped at this damned desk, poring over this blasted paperwork, and my head has been filled with nothing but visions of how goddamned beautiful you looked last night.”
“It is all I have thought of, too,” she confessed, a bit breathless already from the kissing.
With one arm wound around his shoulder to hold herself steady, she used the other hand to card through his hair, caressing his jaw. She enjoyed the way he shuddered at the gentle touch.
Last night had been all about her. He had insisted upon it. And while Ava was grateful for the attention—God, she was grateful for it—she also could not suppress the desire to return the favor in kind.
Althoughreturning the favorwasn’t perhaps the most accurate, that turn of phrase reflected a sort of altruism she didn’t feel. No, this desire was entirely selfish. She wanted to hear all sorts of moans and rasps and deep, pleasured growls escape from his chest. She wanted to see what his face would look like contorted in pleasure.
It was an unfamiliar feeling. She had never felt this way about William, she realized. With William, all matters of the physical had felt like nothing more than an obligation. He had never considered her pleasure.
Now, with Christian, it was as though his every movement lit a fire within her. She pressed her lips to his once more in an even more passionate kiss.
One of his hands left her waist and moved down to her ankle. His hand traced a line up her leg.
“Father?”
Luke’s voice came from the hallway.
Ava and Christian broke apart, and were able to smooth down their clothing and stand by the time the boy reached the study. He knocked at the door.
“Come in, son,” Christian said, finally having banished some of the breathlessness from his voice.
Luke pushed open the door. “Have you seen Pudding?” he asked.
