Page 62 of The Duke of Lies
She shrugged out of the garment and let it pool to the floor. He made to remove her night rail, but she wanted him in the same state. She put her hands on his waistcoat and unbuttoned it with quick flicks of her fingers. He lifted her night rail to her hips, his hands grazing her bare flesh as she worked, waiting patiently for her to complete her task.
Struggling to ignore the sensations resulting from his touch, she focused on sliding the waistcoat over his shoulders. He had to let go of her gown to allow her to remove the garment. Instead of lifting her night rail once more, he tugged his shirt from his waistband and whisked it over his head, baring his chest.
He arched a sandy brow at her. “Is that better?”
“Much.” She stared at his chest. He had far less hair than Rufus had, and it was lighter in color, just like the hair on his head. And she couldn’t explain it away as being exposed to too much sunlight. Unless he walked around on the ship without a shirt… That image was incredibly enticing, however.
None of that mattered. She accepted this man wasn’t Rufus. She was thrilled by that, in fact.
Then she noticed the scars.
One near the center of his chest—maybe two inches long. Another on his right shoulder, angrier looking, perhaps four inches. Small red spots at the top of his abdomen along his rib cage. A particularly long one, at least eight inches stretching from his left collarbone and disappearing into his armpit.
She traced that one with her fingertips. “What happened?”
“A battle during the war.”
“You’ve seen many battles, I think.”
“Yes.”
She wanted to ask what had driven him to do such a thing, but perhaps he hadn’t many choices available to him. As unyielding as her life had been, she’d had privilege. Clearly, he hadn’t.
Yet, you would think he was born to this life. He carried himself as a duke ought, and he certainly knew how to talk. She’d pit his intelligence against Rufus’s or any other nobleman she’d met. In fact, he’d held his own quite well with Simon.
“Have you looked your fill?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure she ever could. He was a mass of muscle and sinew. She ran her hands over his flesh, wanting to memorize every plane, every dip, every scar. It was so easy to see him climbing the mast of a ship or fighting in battle.
He stared at her with keen lust blazing in his gaze. She shivered at the power of his desire and the strength of her own rising to meet his.
He kissed her again, his lips and tongue tasting hers. He was familiar now, which only made it that much sweeter. His hands came up and cupped her breasts, each massaging and squeezing, then lightly tugging on her nipples. Sensation shot straight to her sex.
She reached for his breeches, finding the buttons of his fall and working them loose as she’d done to his waistcoat, but with perhaps a bit more urgency. Her knuckles brushed his cock as she worked. When the fall came open, she reached inside his smallclothes and found his shaft. He moaned as he pitched forward into her hand.
Here was another way in which Kit was not her husband. She could tell he was…bigger. Longer, with more girth. She thought of how that would feel and decided she didn’t want to think about it or compare him to what she’d known before. The whole point of tonight was to drive those memories away and replace them with something far better.
Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she stroked him from base to tip, then back again. This much she knew how to do.
Kit lowered his head to her breast and held her flesh to his mouth as he licked and sucked. She squeezed him, perhaps a little too tightly since he gasped against her.
She loosened her grip. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t stop,” he rasped.
He liked that, then. Emboldened, she gripped him firmly as she slid her hand along his flesh. He moved with her strokes, and she was reminded of the way his fingers had thrust into her. Soon, his cock would do the same, and she found she didn’t want to wait any longer.
She edged backward and felt the mattress against her bare backside. “Kit,” she urged, gently tugging his cock.
“Yes, my love?” His endearment made her shudder with need.
“I would like—” She cried out as he pinched her nipple, then sucked on it with great force. “I would like you inside me.”
“I would like that too.” He straightened, then divested himself of the rest of his clothing. As he peeled his breeches and smallclothes away, his shaft rose long and hard, his balls tight and round beneath. Yes, he was much larger than Rufus.
“You look very…big.”
He stroked his hand between her legs. “And you are very wet. I don’t think there will be a problem.”
