Page 8 of Pregnant After One Forbidden Night

Hidden by bookshelves on all sides save the one they had approached from, this nook had a long, deep burgundy velvet settee centered beneath a breathtaking stained-glass window. The window’s large, central motif, a dazzling kaleidoscope of vibrant reds, came together in the form of a rose exquisite enough to put Notre Dame to shame.

That this stunning window was hidden far away from the atrium, located in a place that one would have to know about to find, underscored the luxury and extravagance of the whole library.

Idly, her mind enchanted by the perfect little spot, she wondered what other treasures this “dead” library hid.

Leading her to the sofa, the duke guided her to sit.

He remained standing, directly in front of her, for a moment, just silently staring, his eyes drinking her in, his pupils dark and dilated like those of a hungry child standing outside a bakery window.

She fidgeted under the intensity of his regard, and then asked again, “What is it you want from me, Your Grace?”

His emerald eyes direct and unflinching, he said, “Everything.”

He said it as if the statement was clear, explaining everything to everyone’s satisfaction, and because it didn’t, not in the least, she was irritated when she said, “What specifically?”

Infuriatingly, he said, “You,” though this time, a hint of confusion had crept into his voice. “I need you.”

Her eyebrows came together, each one so thick and slashing that she had given up trying to tame them years ago, resigning herself to merely plucking stray hairs here and there to prevent a unibrow.

Suddenly, she wished she had spent more time on them.

His eyes burned with an unfamiliar heat that brought a strange fluttering sensation to her stomach.

She forced herself to stay still, refusing the urge to squirm, but the intensity of his stare set off rivulets of sparkling sensation along her skin.

“What do you mean?” she said quietly, her voice losing the earthy, steady quality she was known for in the onslaught of the man’s regard.

He laughed, and the sound was as unexpected as it was entrancing.

It was creamy and musical, warm and baritone, like honey mixed with something naughty and decadent, intoxicating and dangerous like a cocktail. Or at least what she associated with the idea of a cocktail, as she kept with Priory tradition and didn’t drink alcohol.

The laugh transformed him, shaved years from his jaded angles.

Sounding surprised himself, he said, “I mean I want you, Jenna, naked. Now.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him, dumbfounded. His words buzzed around inside her, trying to land, trying to wash her away in sparkling sensation and pooling heat, but she was held fast by the absurdity of a man like him speaking those words to a woman like her.

And so, she began to laugh, stopping only when she realized he was just waiting for her to finish laughing and answer, absolutely earnest.

Staring up at him, laughter chased away by his gravity, she said, “You’re joking.”

His eyes bored into hers, his expression hovering in the land between intense desire and deep frustration. “I am not. I have never needed a woman as much as I do you.”

She hadn’t known until that moment how much she’d been craving words like that, how they would enter and expand inside her, warm and enveloping, grabbing hold of the stirring place deep inside her and squeezing and pulsing with a hold and rhythm she never wanted to end.

“That’s absurd,” she whispered, her voice losing its strength in the face of this unbelievable situation. “You don’t even know me.”

He shook his head. “Believe me. I am as surprised as you are.”

She frowned, not liking the sound of that. “You don’t make it sound like a compliment.”

“It’s not.”

He was strained, tense, even irritated about it all—like he meant what he said about not wanting it but being powerless to do anything to stop it.

Why that did things to her, activated places that had no business activating, she had no idea.

The Casanova type didn’t appeal to her. When she eventually settled down, as much as her family despaired of that ever happening, she wanted what her parents had: an enduring flame kind of love, one built entirely on mutual understanding, respect and compassion. A place to belong.

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