Page 12 of Eliza and the Duke
That wasn’t at all what she had expected him to say. A warning, a flat-out refusal, or maybe even an order to swear a blood oath—any of those would have been less surprising. All she could manage was an inarticulate “What?”
“Kiss me. Go on.” There wasn’t the slightest bit of passion in his voice. His command was a gauntlet thrown down between them.
By their very nature, the words had her looking at his mouth. His lips were surprisingly well-formed. Though not full by any means, his bottom lip looked pillowy and soft. The wound from last week hadn’t been as severe as she had feared because it had already healed. His lips were a pretty shade of pink with a white scar bisecting the left side of his top one.
Kissing him wouldn’t be a hardship. But it was wrong and unnecessary to the conversation at hand, she reminded herself. It felt as if she’d been drawn toward him, like he had some sort of magnetic power to pull her in. She tightened her grip on her cloak and took a step backward.
His mouth twisted into a smirk. “That’s wot I reckoned.”
That accent again. The words rumbled together, unhurried and gravelly, reverberating under her skin.
“Why would I kiss you?” She simply wanted a tiny peek into his world. Kissing had nothing to do with it.
“If you can’t even do that, how will you find the courage to go through with it?”
Courage? This was a test of hercourage? Oh, she would not let him go on thinking she was a coward. Growing up with two older sisters who had often seemed bent on overprotection, this was one point of contention for her. She always had to prove her bravery when it was called into question. Also, she sensed that he wouldn’t agree to her bargain unless she passed this ridiculous test.
She inched closer until she had eliminated almost all the space between them. The heat from his body warmed her front and his scent wafted over her. There was a faint hint of lemon mixed with the sweetness of tobacco and mint. She had kissed a man before…well, Olek. They had both been sixteen and spent a summer half-convinced they were in love. She raised up on her toes and lightly rested her palms against his chest to keep her balance. He was solid muscle beneath her hands. This man was no boy. A fact that intimidated her, but instead of letting it stop her, she charged ahead.
He didn’t budge as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were firmer than she’d thought, or perhaps he was simply very disappointed in her. Kisses were supposed to be passionate, and this one was distinctly not. It was probably because her lips were closed. She parted them, tilting her head slightly to fit them to his, but he didn’t answer her movement in any way.
She wasn’t doing this right. What an inopportune time tohave forgotten how to kiss. His entire body had gone stiff, and she was in danger of sliding off, so she gripped his broad shoulders to keep herself in place. When she pulled back briefly to catch her breath, his eyes were more hooded than usual and held the distinct air of disapproval.
Oh, God, he’d laugh at her later tonight when he was alone. Determined to try again and prove that she could do it properly, she quickly put her mouth back on his. One of his hands found the back of her head. He meant to pull her away. She held his shoulders tighter and flattened herself against his chest. It was a stark reminder of her lack of a corset because her nipples responded to the friction and some light flicked on inside her. It spilled heat that pooled low in her belly. She gasped silently and her tongue found the seam of his lips.
He jerked away, but only slightly to give a breath of space between their mouths. His palm cradled the back of her head and his fingers tightened in her hair. His other hand roamed down her spine. There had never been a time when she wanted a kiss more. She pressed her fingers into the unyielding muscle of his shoulders, silently urging him to continue. With the same urgency she felt, he came back to her, turning his head a bit so their mouths fit together nicely. This time his lips were soft as they moved over hers and she melted into him. The textured slide of his tongue against hers created an electric friction that hummed its way through her veins and buzzed in her body.
All at once, she wasn’t kissing him.Hewas kissingherand she loved it. His hand roamed farther down to settle on her bottom. He squeezed and pulled her forward into his solid strength and that part of him that very clearly wanted her. It was rigid and thick where it nudged against her stomach. She ached to touch him, and that need drew her back to her senses.
“Stop,” she whispered, suddenly aware that they were inher bedroom right next to her bed. It frightened her that she didn’t actually want to stop what they were doing.
He didn’t let her go, but his grip on her head loosened and the one on her bottom eased up to her lower back. His mouth relinquished hers. They were both breathing heavily. “Change your mind?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head and fought for breath. “You said a kiss. That was more than one.”
He chuckled and his hand slid from her hair, his fingertips tracing the side of her face as they slid down to toy with the edge of her cloak where it lay across her breasts. “You want far more than a kiss, though,” he whispered.
Was it that obvious? She was fairly certain she was already blushing, but she still noted the influx of heat to her face. “Regardless, I did as you asked.”
“You did.” He pushed an errant strand of hair off her face. “You’re a very good girl, Eliza.”
She shouldn’t like his praise as much as she did. It lit her up inside with radiant heat. “Shouldn’t we get going?” She took a step backward and he let her go.
“You’re right. I can’t bed you here.” He indicated the bed. “Not with your family near.”
Bed her? The nerve of him! “I did enjoy our kissing, I’ll admit that,” she said in a very firm whisper. “However, we cannot do more. I hardly know you and if this…” She waved her free hand between them, her gaze catching on the impressive bulge in his trousers. She swallowed audibly, surprised that the sight of it wasn’t as abhorrent as it should have been. Two heartbeats passed before she dragged her gaze up to his. “If this is a condition of our night, then I’m afraid I cannot agree.”
“What the devil are you on about? This was the deal. A night with me. You wanted me to bed you, yes?”
She gasped. “I did not want that. I wanted a night with you. A nightoutwith you in London, the parts of it that no one thinks I should see. I meant the dance halls and the gambling parlors of Whitechapel or Covent Garden, not…not…not to be…bedded.”
He stared at her. “But you kissed me.”
“You made me kiss you.” She probably said that too loud. Taking her voice back down to a whisper, she said, “I thought it was an odd condition of the deal, a challenge of sorts to see if I’d pass.”
He laughed, one of his hands coming up to stifle the sound, and backed silently toward the door, putting much needed space between them. She was slightly too humiliated to find humor in the situation.
“What you want is out of the question,” he said when he finally stopped laughing.
