Page 53 of The Duke of Lies
“And you’re injured.” She averted her gaze. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”
She started to turn, and he put his hand on her waist, staying her movement.
“Don’t. I’m glad you asked.” He splayed his hand across the side of her dressing gown, wrapping his fingers along her lower back. “Come here.”
She pivoted back toward him, and he used his other hand to guide her down to sit on his left knee. Her hair hung in a single braid, draped over her left shoulder. He touched the plait, running his fingertips and thumb along the soft ridges of her dark locks. Ascending the rope, he reached her face, where he grazed the pad of his thumb along her jawline.
“Do you want me to kiss you? To really kiss you?”
She nodded, her eyes locked with his.
She was so capable, so intelligent, such a fierce woman to raise her son alone and be duchess of such a grand estate. And yet her innocence and naïvete humbled him. He didn’t want to mess this up.
Slowly, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and guided her head down. He parted his lips slightly as he brought her mouth to his. She closed her eyes, and he closed his. Gently, he kissed her, taking his time to learn her flesh and coax her response.
He kept a low pressure on her back, keeping her secure on his lap while he used his other hand to lightly massage her nape.
He began to move his lips across hers, showing her that kissing could be varied and exploratory. After a moment, he touched his tongue to her flesh, eliciting a soft gasp. She drew back slightly, her eyes opening just after his.
“Perhaps that’s enough.”
“No, that was nice. I was just…surprised. I’d forgotten about the tongue part.”
He could only imagine the awful way in which Rufus had tried to kiss her. Kit battled between drawing a halt to his madness and wanting to show her that not all men were animals, that she could enjoy this.
“I liked that.” She wiggled slightly on his lap, making his cock even harder, if that were possible. “I trust you to make sure I like the tongue part.”
She trusted him. He couldn’t turn her away. And he couldn’t screw this up.
“If you want to touch me, you can. With your hands,” he clarified.
She put her hands around his neck. “Like this?”
“Whatever you like. I’m fairly certain there isn’t a bad way you could touch me.”
Her eyes darkened, and in that moment, he knew she was thinking of all the horrible ways in which she’d been touched.
“Oh, Verity, my love.” The endearment fell from his lips without thought. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you—or Beau. I would protect you with my life.”
“Kiss me. I would like to forget every other kiss but yours.”
Kit clasped her waist with both hands and eased her from his lap as he stood from the chair. Disappointment flashed across her face. She thought he meant to dismiss her. Nothing could be further from his plan.
He cupped her face, intent on doing precisely what she asked, on banishing every other memory. “From this moment on, you will only think of my lips on yours. Of my tongue in your mouth. Of yours in mine. Of our mouths moving and dancing together and giving each other pleasure. Nothing but pleasure.”
He gazed at her intently and drew her flush against his chest as his mouth descended on hers. He moved more purposefully this time, his lips molding to hers, his head tilting to fit himself better to her.
This time when he slid his tongue along the crease of her mouth, she opened slightly. He thrust inside, carefully, reverently, his tongue sweeping against hers. He stroked her back as he held her close, his hands working in concert with his mouth to coax her body into a state of bliss.
She put her arms around his neck, her hands clutching at his bare flesh beneath the collar of his shirt. Need pulsed through him, but he kept himself in check. Everything depended on his control, on his mastery.
He bent her back slightly, and she had to hold on to him tightly. He moved one hand up to cup her nape as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth. Then he pulled away, giving them a brief respite of air before taking her into another kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth and pressed her body up into his, her breasts warm and soft against his chest.
On and on he kissed her—driving forward and easing back, holding her all the while as if she were the most precious cargo he’d ever possessed.
Her fingers wrapped around his shirt, tugging on the fabric so that it dug into his neck. Her body moved against his, her pelvis stirring beneath his.
The bed was so close…
