Page 64 of Noble Scoundrel

But with the very first touch of his lips, she acknowledged how badly she’d been wanting exactly this. Sliding her hands up his chest, she looped her arms around his neck. As soon as she did, his kiss changed. A ragged hum rolled through his throat, making her body tingle and sigh. His fingers dug hard into her hip and fisted in her hair as he tilted his head.

Though the texture of his lips was surprisingly soft—like warm satin—his mouth moved firmly over hers. When his tongue swept against the seam of her lips, she opened with a catch of her breath. Taking advantage of her moment of surrender, he thrust his tongue into her mouth with demanding strokes that stoked the fires of passion burning in her core.

He was right. She lusted after him. She craved his strength and power and possession. The feel of his large, unforgiving hands on her body. But she sensed there was so much more to be explored. So much more to feel. That softness he denied was there...

With another heavy growl, he lifted her higher, setting her on the table behind her. Still kissing her with deep, demanding strokes of his tongue, he placed his hands on her knees and slid them up her thighs, dragging her skirts up to her hips. Stepping forward, he pressed his hips between her thighs until they parted around him. Then he tugged her forward, to the very edge of the table. To him. The sudden pressure of his hardness against her soft center shot a spear of sensation from deep in her core out to her fingertips and toes.

Arching her spine, she pulled back to claim a swift breath. When she opened her eyes, she became trapped by his heavy stare. There was a great deal to examine in the depths of that dark, mysterious green. But she didn’t have the wits to do more than stare in breathless fascination.

She watched as he narrowed his gaze, lowering his eyelids until only a hint of that shadowing, glittering depth remained. Then he shifted his hold to grab firmly to her hips, digging his fingers into the softness. With an unforgiving expression, he held her still as he rocked his hips, grinding his hardness against her aching core.

Katherine had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, or so desperate. The sensations he created with the crude motion made her throat tighten and her low belly clench with uncertain need. Intuitively, she knew it was meant to punish, though she didn’t understand why.

“You want what I can give you, luv?” The gravel-roughness of his voice roused a tingling in her blood. He thrust his hips and a soft moan slid from her lips. “This is all I’ve got. I’m not a gentle man.” He thrust again. Harder. And the muscles in Katherine’s legs tensed, squeezing his hips in an attempt to draw him in closer.

“Fuck.” The word was gruff and raw, muttered in the space between them as he tensed sharply. “I’m a heartbeat away from taking you right here.”

The harshness in his voice managed to clear some of the sensual haze from her mind. She glanced to the side and realized the ballroom doors were still wide open. Anyone passing by would be able to see them with just a turn of their head, yet she struggled to bring herself to care.

Releasing her hips, he leaned forward to brace one hand on the wall behind her. Bringing his other hand beneath her chin, he turned her head back toward him and pressed the flat of his thumb to the center of her lower lip.

He stared intently down at her, his breath even and deep while hers felt erratic and far too shallow.

Meeting her gaze with a hard, seeking stare, he murmured thickly, “A bit more fun than arguing all the time, isn’t it?” Then he gave a soft chuckle as his attention slid down her throat, past the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck, to the swift rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin cotton of her gown. “Though, truth be told, I find a great deal of pleasure in imagining the thousands of little ways I’d like to antagonize and frustrate you.”

The rough promise in his voice had her wishing he’d go into more detail of what he’d like to do to her.

“Hmm.” Wickedness curled his lips. “The idea excites you. I can’t say I’m surprised. D’you think you could handle a man like me, duchess?”

The arrogant condescension in his tone seemed forced. As did the use of the nickname. Tipping her head back, she looked into his eyes—dark with desire and heavily shadowed. He spoke of lust with smug confidence while shielding his deeper thoughts and emotions from her gaze.

Was he toying with her?

The thought that he might not be feeling the same kind of intense draw and connection that she experienced whenever she was near to him—or worse, he was trying to deny it for some reason—triggered a cold rush of frustration.

He might have managed to prove a point after all. Though perhaps not the one he’d intended. Because he was right. She was ready to admit she did want something from him, but it might be far more than he was prepared to give her.

She lifted her chin as pride wrapped around her uncertainty, insulating the tender emotions he’d inspired. She cleared her throat to state in a soft but steady voice, “Why don’t we put it to the test.”

His expression revealed his momentary surprise before softening into a sensual grin. A flicker of anticipation lit his gaze. Her breath caught sharply when he slid his hand around her nape in a possessive, masterful grip as though to position her for his mouth.

She almost lost her nerve then as more heat swirled between them. Rich and deep and altering.

“Teach me to fight.” The words flew from her lips in a rush, effectively bringing a stop to whatever he’d intended to do next.

His entire body became still and tense while his smile tightened into a line. “You want me to train you?”

She decided not to think of how much the roughness in his voice pleased her. She intended to throw him off and she’d succeeded, but desire still roared through him.

“I know you’re teaching Frederick.”

He looked surprised. “You do?”

“Of course. I know everything that occurs in this house. I think it’s a wonderful idea and I’d also like to learn how to defend him—and myself—in case the need should arise.”

His tawny brows lowered in a scowl. “The need won’t arise. I’ll protect you.”

“It’s best to prepare for all contingencies.”

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