Page 52 of Tempted By an Unconventional Lady
Alexander.
She didn’t turn, didn’t look at him, but within moments he was behind her. His warmth made the flesh on her back prickle; the rich scent of him enveloped her. And her body responded.
“Charlotte.”
His voice was smooth and thick with emotion, and the sound of her name upon his tongue sent a shiver down her spine. How she would love to hear him call her name all the time.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she said, still staring out at the moon, their only chaperone. She didn’t need to look at him. Her body already knew how much she wanted him. She let her hand drop by her side and her fingers moved, barely resisting the urge to reach back and touch his hip, his thigh, his manhood. She did not tell him how happy it made her to have him beside her.
“Please accept my apologies, my lady.” He reached up and brushed the hair from the back of her neck, placing it on her shoulder. “I was delayed by a rotten carriage wheel.”
Alexander bent his head and brushed his lips against the base of Charlotte’s neck, so soft that it was barely there and yet she felt every part of it. Her skin glowed with sensitivity, and she tilted her head to the side, mewling at the feel of it.
“I don’t think it would be unfair to say that I am pleased you missed me,” he said, and as he spoke, she realized his face was still so close to her. His hot breath rushed over her skin. “I saw you disappearing into the library, and I couldn’t resist following you.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and swallowed as he kissed her again, tiny kisses that traced her bare neck and moved to her shoulders.
“It would not be unfair to say that I am glad you did,” she muttered.
The duke put his hand on her waist and turned her slowly to face him, his lips barely leaving her flesh. Charlotte mewled again.
“Would you like to return to the ballroom?” he asked, working his way up her neck to the line of her jaw.
“No,” Charlotte said on a gasp. “I find myself rather distracted here, Your Grace.”
“As do I,” the duke muttered. “Fate, it seems, has brought us together once more. It is almost as if she has foretold this.”
He kissed her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and Charlotte raised her face to meet his, silently begging him to kiss her, caress her, take her.
His lips had almost touched hers when thunderous footsteps rang through the hallway. They both froze, listened carefully, but when the footsteps became louder rather than quieter, Alexander grabbed Charlotte’s wrists and pulled her away from the light flooding the window.
They hid in the folds of the velvet drapes, and as the fabric fell against her bare arms, Charlotte shuddered again. Even that was enough to drive her wild, Alexander’s presence setting her whole body on edge.
He put a finger to her lips to keep her quiet, and she looked up at him, unable to look away as the footsteps entered the library. Charlotte shuffled a step closer to him, his finger still on her lips, her eyes still on his.
The jangle of keys echoed through the room, followed by the muttering of someone Charlotte could only assume was the butler. “What is wrong with these people? An invitation to a ball is not an invitation to wander into private spaces.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to laugh, and as she looked up at the duke, he shook his head in warning.No.
And then the door closed with a loud bang, and the distant noise of the ball turned silent. A key slid into the lock and turned, and all the while Charlotte gazed up at Alexander, not caring that she was locked in—only that she was locked in withhim.
Finally, Alexander lowered his hand, but he didn’t move away from her, nor take his arm from around her back. Instead, he pulled her closer and as he did so, he lowered his head for a kiss.
It was soft at first. Tender and loving, and it made Charlotte’s heart swell. It was an emotion she had always wanted, one that she had secretly craved, so secretly that even she herself hadn’t known it. But though her heart was satisfied, her body cried out for more.
She pushed herself even further into him, feeling the crush of her breasts against his chest and the crane in her neck. He responded as she had hoped, moving his body against hers as if he wanted every part of him to feel every part of her.
The kiss became passionate, barely controllable. The duke’s urgent lips pressed hard against Charlotte’s, his probing tongue searching for an entrance she readily allowed him. Hethrust his hand into her hair, holding him to her, and she cocked her leg, her inner thigh brushing against his hip.
“We shouldn’t,” he muttered into her mouth.
“But I want to,” she replied.
“As do I.”
He stepped forward, pushing her against the wall, his hands at her waist as his lips found her neck once more, kissing the top of her jawline, behind her eyes. Charlotte rested her head against the wall and groaned as the sensation fluttered through her.
She knew what she wanted—had known it for years. She had played with herself often enough. But this… this was different. This was more. The intensity of what she felt made her want to drop to her knees and plead with him.
