Page 28 of The Taming of the Duke
Sweet heaven!
With deft fingers, he grasped her skirts and pulled them to her waist. But despite the cold air, the need to part her thighs overpowered her. The ache in her center threatened to engulf her senses, and she shifted her hips, her body understanding that only he could ease the sweet ache.
Then he drew a finger across her center, and her body tightened, as if it anticipated a burst of pleasure.
“Daxton…” his name escaped her lips, and he let out a groan of approval.
“Oh, Catherine,” he whispered, “are you ready for pleasure?”
He continued to caress her, but rather than feel shame at the intimacy, she relished the delicious sensations rippling through her body. His movements grew slicker—slow, sensual circles.
How the devil did he know how to bring about such delicious sensations?
Then the tip of his finger brushed over a sensitive spot in her center, and she cried out, as a fire ignited in her belly.
“Oh!”
“That’s it, sweetheart—you’re close now,” he whispered. “So close…”
Then he stopped moving, and she let out a mewl of frustration. She tilted her hips to increase the pressure, moving against his fingers. Tears of shame at her wantonness pricked at her eyelids, but he nodded his approval.
“Ah, yes—that’s it,” he whispered. “Show me how much you want to feel pleasure at my touch.”
She tilted her hips once more and gave a low cry at the flare of pleasure.
Then, he plunged his finger inside her, and her world shattered.
Her body disintegrated at his touch, and she let out a scream as wave after wave of torturous pleasure ripped through her.
“Daxton!”
His mouth crashed against hers, and he silenced her cries, thrusting his tongue in her mouth to mirror his exquisite administrations between her thighs. She clung to him, and her breathing steadied.
Gently, as if she were as delicate as the finest porcelain, he pulled her skirts down, and held her close, his warm breath caressing her neck. As she drifted into a doze, she caught his whispered words.
“Oh, Catherine, my love—no man shall ever hurt you again.”
My love…
He might have given her pleasure—but, in doing so, he had claimed her heart.
Chapter Nine
This wasn’t supposedto happen.
Dax steered the curricle along the lane, retracing the path to Hardwick Hall.
His companion was a very different creature to the one he’d helped into the curricle that morning. The prickly exterior had gone, replaced by a vibrant young woman. Her eyes shone in the light of the low winter sun, like emeralds studded with stars, and her lips curved into a genuine smile of pleasure.
How had he described her when he’d first seen her at the Wiltons’ ball?
If she saw fit to smile, she might be quite pretty.
How wrong he was! With the sunlight dancing in her eyes and a smile that was for him—and only him—she was not just pretty. She was breathtaking.
Nothing would stop him from continuing to court her when they returned to London. That old bastard Lord Parville would relish the prospect of ridding himself of Catherine—the daughter he’d never valued, and Horton would be eternally grateful for Dax giving him the opportunity to continue to court Blanche.
Everyone would be happy.
