Page 96 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re drunk, we’re not married yet, and I will not have our second time be when you’re too intoxicated to remember it properly.”
His grin broke through the intensity, boyish and wicked. “Second time,” he repeated softly, as though savouring the word. “We had multiple first times that night. A spectacular first time. A life-changing first time.”
“James!”
“What? It’s true. That night was the best night of my life—until our wedding night, which will be even better because I won’t have to leave you in the morning.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m yours,” he said simply, his fingers still at her waist, his breath warm against her temple. “And in three days you’ll be mine properly, and Heaven help anyone who tries to keep me from you.”
“Catherine,” he murmured, the word low and rough, more plea than name. “Let me touch you.”
Her breath caught. The garden felt suspended; every leaf, every sound holding its breath with her. “James, we cannot...”
“We can,” he said softly, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “We can do anything you wish. Only say no, and I’ll stop.”
He was drunk, yes, but there was clarity in his eyes; a dark, deliberate control that made her tremble. He was not thecareless rake the ton whispered of tonight. He was every inch the man who commanded rooms, armies, her very pulse.
“Let me please you,” he said, the words almost reverent. “You’ve haunted me for months. Every night, I’ve imagined you like this...your lips, your breath, your little sounds when I touch you…”
She shivered, unable to look at him. “James…”
“I need to taste your pleasure on my skin,” he continued, his voice a slow burn. “Not to take, only to give. To remind you who you belong to, who will cherish you properly.”
Her resolve wavered, breath unsteady. The scent of jasmine wrapped around them, mingling with the faint spice of brandy and the clean, masculine warmth of him.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she whispered.
“I shouldn’t want you as I do,” he answered, his mouth near her ear now, his breath hot against her neck. “But I do. I always will. Let me show you.”
Her body betrayed her before her lips could. She leaned into him, her hand rising, hesitant, trembling, to his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her palm, wild and certain.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured again, voice deep and rough.
She couldn’t. The word refused to come.
Instead, she met his gaze, steady, defiant, pleading, and whispered, “James…”
It was all the permission he needed.
He drove her back at a dark corner and pushed her against a wall, the shock of his mouth at her throat still tingling when suddenly he sank to his knees. A duke...kneeling before her. The sight alone made her pulse run wild.
With a low growl of intent, he gathered her skirts, layer after layer swept up in his impatient hands until the muslin bunched at her waist. Cool air licked at her thighs, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of him, his breath, his lips, his tongue. He claimed her with shameless devotion, each stroke sending her body taut against the wall.
Her fingers clutched at the carved paneling behind her, nails scraping for purchase as her knees weakened. “You mustn’t...” she gasped, though her protest was nothing more than a thread of sound.
“Oh, I must,” he answered against her, voice roughened by need. “You have no idea how long I’ve hungered for this.”
Her back hit the wall with a muted thud, and for a moment she could scarcely breathe. A duke —herduke — on his knees before her. The sight alone made her dizzy with disbelief, as though she had stepped into some dream spun of daring and scandal.
“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice thick and low, his hands bunching her skirts higher. “I need this. I needyou.”
Her heart clattered in her chest, erratic and wild.This is madness. Someone might hear. Someone might see.Yet when the cool air touched her bared skin, her protests dissolved into nothing. The first hot press of his mouth undid her completely.
