Page 52 of Good Duke Gone Far

When he paused for a breath, he asked, “Is this how it’s always going to be? Arguing then making up like this?”

“Probably.”

“I hope so.” His mouth took hers and devoured her in another kiss.

A throat cleared.

“Your Grace, if I may…” the man of business started.

Quinn stood and straightened his…breeches. “Right. Well, we shall return shortly. And then we’ll throw that party you promised.”

The man’s mouth hung open.

“Hop to it. There’s much to be done before we get back in, oh, an hour.”

Kat nudged him with her elbow.

“I mean, in a few hours,” Quinn clarified.

The man was trying to say something, but Kat was already tugging Quinn’s hand toward the carriage.

“I’m sure you’ll do an exquisite job. Just as you’ve been doing. You shall be rewarded.” Kat squeezed Quinn’s hand and murmured, “Just as we all shall be.”

Back into the carriage they went, giving directions to go to the nearest border crossing into Scotland. This had just turned into an elopement. And after having given it some thought, this time in the carriage, Kat was most eager to close the door.

“What’s the hurry?” was hardly out of Quinn’s mouth, and she had already sat on his lap.

“This must be fate’s way of giving us a second chance at this.”

“This?”

She ran her hand down his chest and leaned in for a whisper. “This and this.” She stopped at the top of his breeches. “And a little bit of that.” One finger trailed down the bulge already tenting the fabric. She wanted to be that straining material, ready to burst.

“Are you sure this is fate’s way?”

“Fate’s way? My way? Same thing.” She chuckled as though a breeze had finally swept through her, leaving only freshness in its wake.

“Your way?” Quinn cocked his brow. “Your way ormyway… let’s see which you prefer.”

He began releasing some buttons from the shackles of their buttonholes. Tugging the fabric down her breasts. Her nipples were stinging with pleasure. He stopped the fabric just before her nipples could breathe.

Her chest was heaving. She wanted to pull his head down to her and coax her nipple between his lips.

“Quinn,” she moaned in anticipation.

He puckered his lips and blew a gentle stream over her breasts. Her moan encouraged him to tug the bodice down a half inch. The fabric rested across her nipples, constraining them with a tingling pressure. She breathed in deeply, and the fabric pulled tighter. Her arms rested between her thighs, her hands near his hips. Taking her index finger, she curled it and grazed it over his arousal.

The hiss he released emboldened her. She took her palm and rested it where her finger had been. Slowly, she rubbed up and down.

With all the time in the world, he tugged on her bodice again. The air hit her taut nipples and shivers shook through her body. Liquid heat from his tongue was lathered upon her. When he stopped, he blew a gentle stream over her sensitive buds, and she arched up into him.

Her fingers were grasping at his layers. He shrugged out of them one by one until he had on only his light linen shirt. One thin layer between her hands and his sinewy abs. She wanted to lick him the way he was lavishing her.

His mouth was on her neck, nibbling, sucking. Her hands yanked his shirt loose from his breeches. And good God, she finally made contact with his skin. His glorious skin. Smooth. Hot. Solid. Running her fingers up and down his ribs. Losing count of ribs and groans. His mouth was atop, on, in, around hers. She wanted his tongue in her mouth, reminding her of what was to come.

She moaned into his mouth while she sucked on his tongue. His hand found its way up her dress, up her calf, her thigh, across her hip, over her bottom. He squeezed. It opened her up to him. She was throbbing for him.

Her hands fumbled down to his falls and undid the buttons. She gloried in her ability to spring him free. She looked down at the ruddy tip, glistening.

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