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Forbidden to Love the Duke(48)

By:Jillian Hunter


“It’s so dark in here. So quiet. Is this the room where you bring your friends?”

He shrugged out of his jacket. “Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve never been in here with another woman?”

“No.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “I’m sorry, but I would not.”

He arched his brow. “Then I won’t bother to confess that right now I can’t remember the name of my last lover.”

“How romantic.” She rolled onto her side. “Why don’t I leave you here alone to see if your memory returns? I’ll ask Carstairs to bring you some writing material.”

He bracketed her inside his arms. “I don’t want Carstairs. And I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you. Alone with you.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “You broke a rule tonight.”

“We’re breaking one of mine now.”

“Then why don’t we make a pact to abandon all rules while we’re in this room?”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

He dipped his head, whispering to her as he kissed a path from the corner of her mouth to her neck. “We do whatever pleases us.”

She went still. He waited, afraid he’d moved too fast, frightened her. As soon as he felt her body relax again, he grazed her collarbone with kisses. Then he traced his hand down her side and lifted her skirt to her knees. She tensed again, her eyes seeking his, and he murmured, “I’ll only do what you want.”

She bit her lip. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then give me what I want.”

She glanced down at the skirt he was slowly raising to her waist. “Is that a quote from the Book of Scoundrels?”

He almost laughed. “It does sound like it, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me,” she said, drawing a breath as his fingers skimmed the inside of her thigh. “You’ve never said that to a woman before.”

“I can’t recall everything I’ve ever said,” he admitted. “But I swear I’ve never felt like this and I’m not entirely sure it’s a good thing for either of us.”

But he couldn’t stop touching her. He was breathing too hard; his blood ran too hot and wild for him to care about right and wrong. She was a confusing and intoxicating force, a bold woman, both sensitive and strong. He wanted to linger over every inch of her skin that he uncovered, indulge his desires in her body at his leisure. He nudged her thighs apart. His gaze searched her face.

At last he touched the folds of her sex. “Damn the darkness,” he muttered. “I want to see what you look like there.”

“That’s improper,” she said in a faint voice.

“It is for other men to look.” His voice was thick. “But not for me.”

“Why is that?”

He sank his finger into her core, probing his finger as deeply as he could. The knob of his shaft throbbed against his pantaloons. She was soft and wet. He pushed a second finger inside her sheath.

She gasped and lifted one leg at an enticing angle. That artless move practically forced James to his knees. He clenched his teeth and considered the consequences of replacing his fingers with his cock. His belly quivered in readiness. She moved against his hand, needing a release as desperately as he did. He could feel her excitement grow. She laced her arms around his neck, panting, closing her eyes.

“Soon,” he whispered, and applied his thumb to the hood of her sex. She gave a soft groan and his erection jumped. If she weren’t so damned sweet and innocent, he’d unfasten his trousers and burrow between her thighs before she could draw another breath.

For now, it was enough to pleasure her and savor every helpless shiver that coursed through her seductive body.

His senses reveled in her unguarded sensuality. He looked at his hand, his fingers snug between the folds of her sex, and he felt a rush not only of passion, which he knew well, but of possessiveness. He belonged inside her. She would be his.

Her heel slid down across the couch. “James,” she whispered, her essence glistening on his hand. He swallowed. The fingers she had curled around his wrist tightened. She wanted to know she was safe. And he wanted to assure her.

Still, he teased her, brought her to the edge again and again, ready to break himself. He stroked her faster until he knew she couldn’t last another moment. When she reached her peak, she writhed with a sensual wildness that was beautiful and delectable to behold. As the tremors subsided from her body, she opened her eyes and gave him an unfathomable look. We she inviting him to continue or simply too dazed to express what she felt?