Page 63 of The Duke of Ruin
“Diana, we can go to sleep. It’s been an exhausting trip.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You make me wait until we’re wed to engage in intercourse, and now you want to go to sleep?”
Simon should have known better. He knewherbetter than to think she wouldn’t want a traditional wedding night. What’s more, she deserved one.
He thought of his wedding night with Miriam, of her shyness. What the bloody hell was he doing? He couldn’t keep thinking of her. He didn’twantto keep thinking of her. And yet there she was, like a ghost haunting him, and truly, he deserved nothing less. He certainly didn’t deserve this beautiful, charming, thoughtful woman who’d just become his duchess.
He stared at her, wondering what in the hell he’d done to win her? Nothing. He’d been in the right place at the right time. She’d needed rescuing, and he’d saved her. Was there any chance he could save himself in the process?
Before he could answer that question—and he doubted if he really could—she rose from the chair, her lips curling in a thoroughly seductive manner. “Are you going to help me undress? This time, you don’t have to go quickly. Nor do you have to try to avoid touching me.”
And just like that, the demons invading his mind faded to the background. He stood and shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall back onto the chair. He took the two steps necessary to stand before her and stared down at her pink, parted lips. “Turn.”
She did, and Simon’s mouth went dry as he allowed himself to contemplate disrobing her in the way he’d tried very hard not to think about during their long journey north. He plucked at the laces of her gown as he’d done so many times. This time, however, he went slowly, and he took no care to avoid touching her too much.
When the gown was loose, he pulled up the skirt and drew it over her head. Reaching around her, he draped it rather carelessly across her chair. Next was her petticoat. She tugged it up, and he helped remove it in the same fashion as her dress. It also followed the gown onto the chair.
Now the corset. He pulled at the laces, allowing his knuckles to graze her back, feeling her warmth beneath the thin linen of her chemise. Bit by bit, the garment came open and when it was loose enough, he helped her take it over her head. She clasped it and threw it to the chair as she turned to face him.
He shook his head. “Turn.”
She gave him a quizzical look before presenting her back once more.
“I want to take your hair down,” he said, aching to touch her dark, silken locks. He found the pins and one by one deposited them on the mantel until her hair fell about her shoulders. It reached to the middle of her back, hanging in soft, loose waves. “Please don’t braid it.”
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her blue eyes glowing in the firelight. “I won’t.”
He touched her hair, gently sifting it through his fingers, then moving it to the side so he could bare the back of her neck. He bent his head and kissed her flesh, eliciting a shiver along her nape.
She edged backward the slightest amount, and a soft sigh—similar to the sound she’d made when she’d removed her shoes and yet wholly different—escaped her. He moved his lips along her neck, holding her hair to the side and trailing his fingertips along her left arm.
When his lips found her ear and he suckled her flesh, she cast her head back. He swept his hand beneath her arm and skimmed his palm up to her breast. She was soft and round and her nipple came to immediate attention the second he touched it. He let go of her hair and brought his right hand around to her other breast. Cupping her in both hands, he massaged her gently and trailed his lips down her neck.
She arched her back, her head falling against his shoulder. He closed his fingertips over her nipples and lightly pressed, then tugged. She cried out, and the sound spurred his desire. As he worked and fondled her breasts, her hips began to move. Her backside grazed his cock. He envisioned bending her over the chair and coming into her from behind. Not tonight, but perhaps some day.
He moved his hand down over her abdomen and pressed it between her legs. She moved her thighs apart for him, giving him better access. He cupped her mound and fingered her through the fabric of her chemise.
She moaned softly, her pelvis rotating. Then she lifted her hem, silently urging him to touch her with no barrier. He meant to do that and more. When she was bare to him, he found her clitoris and stroked her incessantly. She moaned again and strained back against him. He withdrew his hand, and she let out a quiet whimper.
“To the bed,” he rasped.
She turned to face him, her eyes dark and sultry with lust. “You have too many clothes on.”
“I do indeed.” He quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat, and she barely waited for him to finish before she pushed it from his shoulders. Her hands found his waistband first and pulled the hem of his shirt free. He whisked it over his head and let it fall to the floor. Her fingers were already dancing across his chest, and while he appreciated her zeal, if he didn’t taste her soon, he was going to go mad.
Pulling her against him, he kissed her, openmouthed and hungry. She met him, and her teeth grazed his lip. The contact was more fuel on the fire of his lust. He drove his tongue into her mouth, and she did the same to him, giving and taking with a demand that matched his own.
He was consumed with kissing her. He slowed, teasing her with long, lush strokes of his tongue. He pulled away to kiss her jaw, her cheek, her neck. Then he returned to her mouth to begin his assault anew. She clutched at him through it all, her fingertips digging into his shoulders and neck, his back. And then her hands were on his backside, cupping him and holding him as she pressed her pelvis to his. The contact of her heat against his erection roused a groan from deep within his throat.
They’d never make it to the damned bed.
He picked her up, and she let out a small, feminine squeal of surprise that made him smile. In three quick strides, he was at the bed, and he set her down near the top. “Where’s the bed warmer?” He didn’t want that getting in their way.
She reached for the coverlet and started to peel it back. “I’ll take care of it while you take off the rest of your clothes.”
He leaned against the mattress to remove his stockings. “I hope that means you’re getting rid of your chemise.”
She stopped what she was doing and made a show of lifting the garment over her head. As she put her arms up, her abdomen stretched, drawing his attention right to her breasts. He longed to put his mouth on her. She tossed the chemise from the bed and gave him a sultry stare before removing the bed warmer and taking it to the hearth.
