Page 61 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

With a sigh, he dropped the tippet alongside her. “I guess you’ll never find out now.”

She giggled. “Are you sulking?”

“Why would I sulk? I’m not the one depriving myself of a thousand sensual pleasures.”

Juno began to regret her earlier words. He had given this thought, she realized warmly, anticipated what might please her. She idly tangled her fingers in the tippet. How might he respond if she were to trail it over his body? How magnificent, to torture him in this exquisite fashion, to make him shudder and moan under her touch.

Again he reached past her, this time to pour a large glass of red wine from a carafe.

“To think I even decanted a bottle of fine wine, and you don’t want to taste it,” he said. “But I intend to indulge. A toast to your glory.”

He raised the crystal goblet in a toast and then tilted his wrist. Wine splashed onto her breasts. She gasped. Grinning wickedly, he set down the glass. He dipped a finger into a puddle on one breast.

“A fine vintage,” he said, smearing the wine over her nipple. “Notes of blackberry, oak, and sin.”

He licked the wine off, his tongue rough and hot as he swirled it around her sensitive nipples and nibbled the soft curves of her breasts. He took his time, not missing a drop. When he was done, he shot her a knowing, heavy-lidded look.

“So you do like the wine,” he drawled huskily.

She laughed, breathy and high. “It’s very potent. Goes straight to my head.”

“Oh dear, I wasn’t aiming for your head. I shall have to try again.”

He drizzled a trail of droplets over her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

Juno watched, nibbling on a finger, her breathing shallow. Her hips shifted against the velvet chaise.

Once more, he chased the drops of wine with his lips and tongue, scraping her feverish skin with his teeth, dipping his tongue into her navel. All the while, his fingers frolicked on the softest part of her inner thigh.

This was true luxury, she thought hazily, not silk and velvet and swansdown, but the luxury of time and space and attention. The luxury of being pleasured and served.

His eyes glinted. “You like that,” he said.

“I like you touching me.”

“I like touching you. Your body is a marvel.”

As he spoke, he shifted his hand on her thigh, becoming more adventurous. His thumb boldly glided upward, ruthlessly venturing over her most sensitive part.

“Here?” he murmured. “Or here? Like this?”

A breathy cry escaped her, and a triumphant, satisfied smile spread over his face, like a man who had struck gold and was very pleased with himself indeed.

Through the haze of pleasure, doubt fluttered in her like a trapped moth: how deliberate this was, how cleverly strategic, as if he was applying a learned technique. She’d almost prefer enthusiastic incompetence to this ruthless strategy.

But the thought fled as the skills of his thumb sent fresh pleasure rippling down her legs.

Very well. Ruthless competence was not entirely unwelcome.

“You are truly enchanting,” he murmured, his lips against hers. “So real and intoxicating and potent. There isn’t a wine in the world that can get into my blood like one taste of you.”

“But you haven’t had a taste of me yet.”

Desire flared in his eyes as he caught her meaning.

Yes! He liked her brazenness, her wantonness, her familiar disrespect. He enjoyed her readiness to issue commands as much as he enjoyed her willingness to surrender to his.

I just learned something very intimate about you, Leopold Halton,she thought triumphantly.You try to hide from me, but I am seeing you all the same.

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