Page 63 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
He kissed her, not able to bear her finishing the sentence, unable to bear the thought of her insecurity when he wanted her the way he had never wanted Helena. Finally, he could admit it—as much as he had loved Helena, he had been a boy, and now he was a man.
Helena had been a girl, young and naïve… but Lydia was a woman.
The two could not be compared.
Knowing he should have pulled away, he tugged her closer, opening her mouth with his. Immediately, Lydia’s body softened, and her mouth molded to his. At the first brush of his tongue, she shuddered, and when she shifted, she felt the press of his manhood.
“I cannot help wanting you…” He growled. “Even when I shouldn’t.”
It was only a hint of the tender feelings he had for her, but he couldn’t give her everything. He would let her see his desire—after everything, that was safe.
“Then take me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Make me yours in every way. I want to know how it is to be married to you.”
If he did this, there was no turning back. But she had started something in motion he could not undo; the force of his desire overrode every other temptation, and he kissed her again, more roughly this time, more needily.
He could have thisone daywith her, locked in her bedchamber. They could have this, at least.
He didn’t think he could leave without being inside her at least once…
No laudanum in the world would be enough to quell his cravings for her.
She only wore a simple nightgown, and he cupped her breast over it, feeling the way her nipple pearled into his palm. She whimpered. Already, she was needy, her hips moving against his as though seeking friction. He gripped her hip with one hand, guiding her over his cock so she rolled her core against that instead.
The less refined part of him—all man, alllust—desired to rip the nightgown from her, but he resolved to try and do better. For her sake, if nothing else. He ought to make this good. And so he teased her over the top of her nightgown, circling her nipples, squeezing her breasts in time with every gyration of her hips.
He kissed her jaw, her neck, and even bent his head so he could suck at her breasts, turning the material damp. The dusky pink of her nipples showed through, and she could have been an erotic work of art. If only he could capture this moment in his memory forever; the way her breath grew heavy as she moved, the way her nightgown clung to her, the delicious curves of her breasts, revealing just enough to keep him fascinated.
She was a goddess. And just for now, she was his…
“Enough,” she panted, scrabbling for purchase at her hem. “Enough of this.”
“Impatient, my sweet?” His amusement curled around the words.
“Yes!” She tugged the hem still higher, over her thighs, then higher still. And even though he’d had the privilege of seeingher fully bare before, the sight still struck him a little dim. The thick, dimpled flesh of her upper thighs, the curve of her hips, the softness of her lower stomach. So many places for his hands to rediscover. “Please, Alexander…” she pleaded breathily. “I’ve been waiting for so long. Don’t make me wait any longer…”
He could not have resisted her then if he’d tried.
With a groan, he rolled them so she was under him, now, her legs spread to accommodate him, her nightgown caught on the underside of her breasts. Her eyes were wide, her skin flushed, and she watched him with anticipation as he finally removed the nightgown himself, tangling her hair around her head.
“You are perfect,” he told her.
“And you,” she breathed, gathering herself enough to smile, “are still wearing all your clothes.”
“Would you like to rectify that?” He took her hand, bringing it to the buttons of his waistcoat. “Have you ever undressed a man before?”
“You know I haven’t.”
“Then undress me.” He sat back, his blood heating still further at the idea of her small hands all over him, learning him, revealing him to her one item of clothing at a time.
Biting her lip, Lydia sat up, her attention fully fixed on his body. She came to her knees and unbuttoned his waistcoat with infuriating slowness. Even so, he held himself still, letting her remove it from his arms and put it to one side. Then she addressed herself to his cravat, ruined after sleeping in it, and tossed that aside too.
After some consideration, she pulled his shirt free and over his head, pausing to examine his torso with the same hunger she had shown in the bath. He stayed as still as he could, though he ached for her. This was new for her, and he wanted everything to happen at the speed she needed it to.
Everything had to be just right for her. That was the least he could do.
Finally, she raised her gaze to his, her face wondering in the dawn light. “You are so… beautiful,” she whispered.
The words were unexpected. And hit him in a way he could never have anticipated. His chest tightened. “As are you.”
