Page 105 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
And as he proceeded to demonstrate exactly what he had in mind for those weeks, Catherine decided that maybe, just maybe, they could stay in bed for a very long time indeed.
Chapter 19
Almost a year later.
“You’re late.”
James’ voice was mild, but her pulse leapt as she lifted her gaze from the book. James was framed in the doorway like a painting she’d never stopped wanting to touch. Evening clothes rumpled, cravat loosened, shirt undone just enough to reveal a dark edge of skin, his hair slightly mussed as though from impatient hands. And his eyes, those dark, knowing eyes, were fixed on her with a look that made her stomach tighten even after almost a year of marriage.
“I’m exactly where I said I’d be,” she murmured, closing the book. “Reading in bed. You’re the one who insisted on shepherding Lord Pemberton to the door.”
“Pemberton wouldn’t stop talking about his new bride.” James shrugged out of his coat, his movements slow and deliberate. “Apparently, she’s perfection itself.”
“She’s lovely. We had them to dinner last month.”
“I remember the blue dress you wore that night.” His voice dropped, rougher now. “You made me forget every guest in the house.”
“You were badly behaved.”
“You didn’t seem to mind.” He sat on the edge of the bed, his palm sliding under the coverlet until it found her ankle, warm and bare. “In fact, if memory serves, you misbehaved quite enthusiastically afterward.”
A small, traitorous smile curved her lips. She remembered: James pressing her against the door, their laughter muffled by frantic kisses, the giddy, trembling urgency of it all.
“That was different,” she whispered, catching her breath as his fingers began their slow ascent up her calf.
“We don’t have a houseful of guests now.” His hand reached her knee, then her thigh, his thumb tracing idle patterns that sent little shocks through her veins. “The servants know better than to disturb us. The Duchess,” his lips quirked, “is said to be very, very exhausted.”
Catherine laughed softly, reaching for him. “Come here.”
He obeyed, stretching beside her, drawing her into the heat of his body. For a long moment she rested her head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heart making everything outside the room disappear.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly.
“Miss what?”
“The anticipation. Those months when we could barely touch…”
James toyed with a strand of her hair, eyes thoughtful. “No. This is better.”
“Better than all that delicious tension?”
“Better because now I know.” He tipped her chin upward until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “I know how you taste. I know the sound you make when I find that place just behind your ear. I know the way your body trembles when you’re about to come undone. And I know there’s still more to discover...every night, for the rest of our lives.”
Heat pooled low in her body at the words. “James…”
“Do you miss it?”
She thought of that girl at the inn; frightened, untried, running from a life she couldn’t bear. She’d been innocent of more than passion.
“No,” she said firmly. “I like knowing. I like knowing exactly what your hands can do. I like knowing how to make you lose control.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t lose control.”
“You did last Tuesday.”
“That was different.”
“You literally said, ‘please, Catherine, please...’”
