Page 25 of Duke of Destruction
“You aremaddening,” he lamented. “You do realize that I never asked for any of this, don’t you? I had no desire to be anywhere near you.”
“And you thinkIdid?” she asked, leaning on her hand so she could gesture more forcefully in his direction. “You think I came to this party and hoped that, instead of helping my sister make connections so that she needn’t endure another Season, I would get ensnared in some—some bizarre enmity?”
“All I wanted was to stay away from you,” he said. His eyes were searching her face, like she was hiding some sort of crucial answer from him. She would have given it if she’d known what it was. Alas, she was plagued by her own mystery.
What was it about him?
“I have tried to ignore you,” she said. It no longer came out like a snap; it was more like a sigh, a lament. “But?—”
“But here we find ourselves again,” he said, sounding frustrated. “And I can’t seem to make myself?—”
This time, there was no doubt who kissed who; Catherine leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, stopping him before he saidleave.
If he said it, he might do it. And if he did it before she kissed him?
She feared she wouldn’t survive it.
Catherine was not, as a rule, a woman prone to dramatics—her attitude toward games aside. But this man, this rude, rude, difficult,rudeman! He made her feel everything more brightly than she typically did. Her anger, yes, and her irritation.
But also her longing. It went beyond mere want. Sheneededto kiss him.
And if the ravenous way he devoured her mouth was anything to go by, he needed to kiss her, too.
Her hair was in a long, loose braid for sleeping; as the duke reached out to pull her more firmly into his embrace, he wrapped one hand around the braid and tugged it, not quite sharply enough to hurt, but enough to guide Catherine where he wanted her.
Which was, as it happened, atop his lap.
Astride him.
Catherine followed without hesitation.
“This still changes nothing,” she reminded him between hasty kisses, an echo of his own words from earlier thrown back at him. “This is just…”
“Magnetism,” he supplied when she broke off, too distracted by the way his mouth was moving along her jaw to come up with a suitable word. He nipped her lightly, and she gasped, her whole body surging against his. “Like a compass needle pointing north.”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly. She ran her fingers through his dark hair. It was softer than she would have thought. Silky. “Inevitable.”
She’d meant… Well, she felt certain she’d meant something different. Something to argue that this—whateverthiswas—was not their fault.
He drew her mouth back to his before she could fret over the seriousness of her word choice.
It was impossible to think about something likevocabularyafter that. This late in the evening, there was a slight rasp of whiskers growing on his cheeks and chin, and though Catherine didn’t quite find the prickling sensation comfortable, she was nevertheless intrigued by the sensation against her own soft, hairless skin.
This study in contrasts only intensified as his tongue reached out to touch hers, soft as velvet. It was, in theory, Catherine thought giddily, a strange thing to do, but it feltsoright.
She wanted more, needed more. She squirmed in his lap, seeking some way of being even closer to him, and gasped in shock and delight as she felt something grow hard beneath her. Her gasp turned into a moan as she ground herself down on that hardness, impulse driving her actions.
Her instincts were brilliant, she decided, when the duke gritted out an oath.
“Fuck, Catherine.” She ground down again as the sound of the hard, guttural swear sent a thrill through her. “You drive me mad.”
It might not have been a compliment, but Catherine hardly cared. There was something hot as flame building inside her, something centered low and between her legs, where her most secret place met that hardness beneath his clothes.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, the words coming out on a whine. “I need…”
And then she saw it again, just a flash in the moonlight—that smile. The real one.
“Let me, sweet,” he urged, voice low, almost gentle. “Let me show you what you need.”
