Page 40 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

The truth was his kiss set her afire—and she didn’t want that. She wanted to hold this man at arm’s length.

“All right,” he agreed. You don’t have to kiss me.”

Linfield took her hand and led her to the bed. Those crystal blue eyes blazed. Holding her gaze, his fingers went to where Retta had tied Laurel’s robe. Slowly, he undid it and pushed the dressing gown from her. It fell to the floor. His hands cradled her face. The air filled with electricity. She had told him not to kiss her but now she wanted nothing more than his mouth on hers.

Instead, he lifted her night rail from her and tossed it aside. Laurel now stood bare before him, her knees wavering. Her husband studied her at length. She felt herself turn red from her toes to her brow.

His hands returned to her face, cupping it. “You are very beautiful, Your Grace.”

She couldn’t reply. She wanted him so badly. Boldly, her hands moved to his sash and she repeated his actions. Undid the knot. Parted his dressing gown. Pushed it from his shoulders.

He wore nothing beneath it. Her eyes took in the broad, muscular chest, dusted lightly with golden hair which trailed down past his belly. His manhood jutted from him and she refrained from gasping. She didn’t see how it would fit inside her.

Linfield scooped her up and placed her on the bed. Her heart pounded fiercely as nerves consumed her. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, not daring to look at him. He settled on his side, his head propped up and resting in his hand. His free hand stroked her throat and slid down to cup her breast. As he kneaded it, his lips touched her throat.

“No kissing,” she said, her words a whisper.

“You said you didn’t want to kiss me—and I agreed. We said nothing about me kissing you.”

Laurel wanted to protest but his warm lips were on her throat again as his hand continued fondling her breast. His mouth moved lower and suddenly it took in her breast. His tongue teased her nipple, causing her back to arch. Then his teeth grazed it and she almost came off the bed.

“Kissing... doesn’t have... anything to do with... making a baby,” she managed to get out.

He continued worshipping her breast and then moved to the other. By now, a throbbing between her legs had begun. The more he suckled her, the greater it pounded, demanding attention.

His attention...

“Please, Linfield.”

He stopped. “Anthony,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I insist, Laurel. Call me Anthony.”

“Anthony,” she repeated and then sucked in her breath as his hand touched her womanhood.

He began stroking her there, the throbbing consuming her.

“Do you have to do that?” she asked.

He stopped. “I need to ready you for what comes next, Laurel. The first time will hurt.”

“How do you know when I’ll be ready?”

He slipped a finger inside her and her hips rose. “I’ll be able to tell. Trust me. I have experience.”

Of course, he did. He was a man. He’d done this sort of thing all the time. The thought of him with other women angered her and she had no idea why.

Then rational thought became impossible as another finger joined the first. There was only need. Something building inside her. Something fierce and powerful demanding to be released. As his fingers worked some kind of dark magic, she began moaning. Whimpering. Sounds came from her that she’d never made before. But then again, she didn’t understand what he was doing to her. Only that it was wicked and wonderful and she wanted more.

Whatever built within her now screamed to get out. Her body didn’t seem her own anymore. It was his, to do with however he pleased. A sudden, blinding warmth filled her as a wave of pleasure so intense filled her. She cried out and her body shuddered. Ripples continued through her as she bucked and moaned, tears escaping from the corners of her eyes and streaming into her hair.

Then he was above her. “I’m sorry.”

He thrust into her and the pain he’d promised became a reality. She clawed at his back and realized he wasn’t moving.

“Get used to me,” he said hoarsely.

He certainly filled her. She was stretched as never before. Then he began moving—and she felt the urge to move with him. They began a kind of dance. She caught on quickly and found him the perfect partner. He kissed her brow. Her cheeks. Buried his face against her throat.

But he didn’t kiss her mouth.

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