Page 51 of The Duke of Ice
Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her. The contact was like a bonfire catching flame, sending heat licking outward until everything was ablaze.
He tasted of that heat and need. He tasted like home.
This was no gentle brush of lips as in the ballroom the other day. This was the passion she remembered, his body pressed to hers, his mouth opening and invading hers, his tongue tempting hers. And she answered every provocation, straining against him, her arms twining around his neck and pulling him to her, lest he decide this was a mistake.
Maybe it was. She didn’t care. This wasn’t the Duke of Ice. This was Nick, the man she’d given her heart to, her lover.
His fingers dug into her back as he kissed her with fierce need. She met his desperation with her own, clutching his neck and curling her hands into his collar. Tilting her head, she pressed harder against him, need pulsing between her legs. She hadn’t been with a man in so long. And she hadn’t known ecstasy with one since him.
He brought his hand beneath her arm, along her rib cage, until he found her breast. He massaged her through the layers of her clothing, and she wanted to weep with want.
“Always too many damn clothes,” he muttered against her mouth, not fully breaking their kiss.
She tangled her tongue with his, cutting off further speech. A sound vibrated deep in his throat, which she felt more than heard. Joy spread through her. How long she’d imagined this moment. And it far exceeded the fantasy.
His thumb came up over the edge of her bodice and brushed along her flesh. She wanted to peel her clothes away and do the same to his. Sliding her hand down from his neck to the edge of his collarbone, she tugged at his cravat, loosening the knot.
He ended the kiss with a groan, and she opened her eyes, her body quivering.
He backed away, wiping his hand over his mouth again, his eyes wild with desire. “I thought I would kiss you and that would be enough. Then we’d part on friendly terms.”
She wanted to laugh with the absurdity of that. One kiss had never been enough after that first time. Keeping their hands from each other had been a distinct problem in their short but torrid relationship. “And is it? Enough, I mean.”
“No,” he rasped. But he turned and went to the door. She sagged with disappointment even as every instinct she possessed said this was for the best.
Then she heard the click of the lock just before he pivoted, pressing his back to the door. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“There are two other doors.” He strode to one of them, and she heard him throw the lock while she rushed to the other.
“There’s no lock on this one.” Before she could turn, she felt him approach behind her. “Then we shall have to be quiet. And hope no one tries to come in. If memory serves, we had to do this once before.”
The third—and last—time they’d been together. They’d taken advantage of a seldom-used sitting room while attending a party one evening. They’d been young and foolish, overcome with emotion and physical yearning. They ought to know better now, to practice caution and reservation.
And yet, she didn’t think she could do so, especially not when she was enveloped in his spicy scent and his breath tickled the back of her neck. As if reading her mind, his attention focused on that spot as his lips caressed her skin.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the door. Over the next several minutes, he did things to her neck with his lips and tongue that aroused her more than she ever thought possible. She splayed one hand next to her shoulder against the door for support, and with her other hand, she reached back and gripped his thigh. His muscle was taut beneath her palm, and he brought his body against hers, his groin nudging into her backside.
His breath came hard and fast against her skin. She clutched at him, eager for more. The whisking sound of her skirt filled the near quiet as he lifted her dress from behind. Cool air rushed over the backs of her legs. When the fabric was bunched between them, she felt his touch, the gentle stroke of his fingertips along the back of her thigh.
His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. “Part your legs,” he whispered.
She did as he bade, widening her stance. His hand moved forward and found her core. He lightly teased her flesh, swirling around the most sensitive part of her as his lips and tongue ravaged her ear. She turned her head and laid her cheek against the wood, her breath rasping from her mouth as her pulse climbed.
“You are very wet for me,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw. “Do you remember how it was?”
He’d always tormented her until she was not only wet and begging for release; he didn’t stop until she came. Only then would he take his own pleasure. There’d been only one occasion when his pleasure had come first—
Her thought was completely interrupted by the press of his finger inside her. He went slowly, his touch seductively methodical. She gasped softly at the welcome intrusion, and she couldn’t keep her hips from arching back.
“Do you want more?” he asked, sliding out briefly before edging in again.
She kept her eyes closed, all her attention focused on the ecstasy building within her. “I want everything.” She turned her head farther, seeking his kiss.
His mouth ravished hers as his finger thrust deep into her. She would’ve cried out if not for the preoccupation of his kiss. Their position was a tad awkward, and it wasn’t long before he broke his lips from hers, returning his mouth to her neck. Her hips moved with the thrusts of his hand, and she rose onto her toes as need tightened inside her. Her pleasure built, and her body tensed.
“Come for me, Violet.” The soft command came against her ear, and it was all the urging she needed.
