Page 57 of His Tempting Duchess

He kissed her again, almost absently, his fingers sliding up her thigh. She knew before he touched her what was going to happen. Knuckles brushed against her mound, and pleasure shot through her, wringing out a gasp and a jerk. Her eyes flew open—when had she closed them?—and she found him watching her again.

“May I continue?” Cassian asked, his voice rough and his eyes glittering.

Emily swallowed thickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He grinned and then slid down her body.

Emily propped herself up on her elbows, a little confused. “What are you…” she trailed off when he knelt between her legs, gently nudging her knees apart.

“I am sure I told you to lie there quietly, Miss Belmont,” Cassian murmured, flashing her a truly wicked grin.

Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the side of her knee. Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure she could have spoken, even if her life depended on it.

He kissed her again, his lips sliding higher and higher until they pressed against her mound.

Emily could not be silent any longer. She let out a choked cry, before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Cassian’s mouth moved as though he were kissing her, lips and tongue and even a brush of his fingers, and she felt as though her very soul were being pulled out of her body.

The novels never mention this.

She felt something building inside her, pleasure building up and up until she thought she might burst from it all, the champagne cork ready to fly out of the bottle. Her climax came suddenly, unstoppably, and she cried out again, one hand gripping the cushion beneath her and the other tangling in Cassian’s hair.

She barely noticed that she’d touched him until she began to come down slowly from the peak of her pleasure, her breathing ragged as if she’d been running. Once she realized she was pulling his hair, she let go at once, flushing.

Cassian pulled back, dragging the back of his hand across his chin.

“Now, isn’tthatbetter than sketching, Emily?” he asked, his voice a little raspy.

She propped herself up on her elbows again, still breathing heavily. “That… I… You…”

“I shall wait until you can form a sentence,” he teased, sitting back on his heels with a grin.

His gaze slid away from her, and his smile faded. Twisting around, Emily saw that he was looking at the clock in the corner.

“What time do your servants generally wake up?” Cassian enquired, frowning.

“I’m not sure. Five o’clock, I think.”

“Ah. Well, it is nearly half past four now.”

With a squawk, Emily scrambled into a sitting position, staring at the offending clock.

How had the night slipped away?

“We had better get you looking respectable at once, and then it’s time to get you home,” Cassian said decisively, snatching up his rumpled clothes and pulling them over his head. He wasn’t looking at her.

Emily eyed him, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Did he regret what he had done?

There was no time to worry about that, though. Smoothing out her skirts, she began her search for her sketchbook. She was not about to leavethatbehind.

CHAPTER18

Two Nights To Her Decision

“Don’t play with your food, Emily, please. And why are you yawning so much? Did you sleep poorly?”

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