Page 134 of Dukes for Dessert

It was just as well.

His kiss melted away any objection with a suffusion of instantaneous warmth. In contrast, his lips were cool and dry as they swept and slanted across her stunned mouth, quietly unraveling every knot of her taut, anxious muscles. She’d expected passion from him—skillful, artful seduction, and dominant, masculine impatience.

What she found instead was a coaxing, tender exploration. Unhurried and uncomplicated. Even though he carefully held his tremendous body away from her own, he somehow imprinted upon every inch of her.

And yet…she was not distracted by roaming hands or the fervent press of his demanding arousal.

Her entire being was focused on the firm, shifting pressure of his mouth as he nibbled at the corners of her own before exerting the tiniest sucking tension, pulling her passion-plumped bottom lip to roll between his.

Lord but it was lovely and—oh!

A velvet swipe of his tongue against the seam of her mouth stole all breath from her body and all the thoughts from her head.

She lost herself in the seductive heat of this act. So familiar to a woman once married, and yet so foreign. This man was different in every way to her husband.

The shape of him, the scents and sentiments.

The safety.

That word gave her a moment’s pause. This man exuded danger. Radiated wicked disregard for all things reliable and reasonable.

For heaven’s sake, he was there to murder a man.

So why did she suddenly want to enfold herself against him? To crawl into his arms like a child and make a cradle of his strength…

When his seeking tongue once again tested the topography of her mouth, she opened for him with a sibilant sigh, before fully realizing what she’d done.

Alarmed, she braced herself for the invasion. The wet, smothering plunge that would create a mash of lips against teeth and a gagging sort of fullness in her throat.

She nearly expired when he met her own tongue with his before retreating, testing the curve of her lips as he did. That soft sucking motion invited her tongue into his mouth, enticing her to explore the warmth there.

He tasted divine.

Both bitter and sweet, like the finest, darkest chocolate. He made way for her exploration while caressing and teasing her with silky darts and swirls. It was not a dance to which she knew the steps, but he led her with a precision and expertise she relied upon.

Hollow, guttural noises and deep, appreciative sounds encouraged her on, vibrating across her lips, into her mouth, and down her spine to land at the very core of her desire.

So absorbed was she in the kiss—the first kiss that truly curled her toes—she’d been oblivious to his other designs until cold air kissed the tender skin above her stockings.

Ripping her mouth from his with a gasp, she clutched at the pile of skirts he’d gathered above her knees.

“Yes, do secure them there, that will be ever so helpful,” he urged with a playful tone, though something both savage and devious glinted in his eyes.

“This isn’t—what the devil are you—I don’t think we—”

He pressed that infernal finger to her lips. “Now is not the time to think, Countess, but to feel.”

Hot breaths exploded around the flat of his finger and arrested his gaze, while she trembled and struggled with her desires, her past, and her crippling anxieties. “I don’t know what I feel,” she confessed, unable to keep the wobble from her chin. “I don’t know how to feel. How to do any of this in the way that—”

He smoothed the back of his knuckle over her chin, hooking the finger beneath it to lift her face to meet his.

“Do nothing,” he said firmly.

She shook her head, but he didn’t release her. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve a delightful task to perform. However, your entire—and might I say delectable—body has but one job. To think and do as little as is possible. Do not feel on my account, only yours. Don’t go looking for pleasure, let it find you.”

“But—”

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