Page 34 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
“I simply cannot fathom what you’re saying,” she insisted. “You loathe me! You kissed me once and acted as though the experience was so horrible you never wished to repeat it!”
“Violet,” he said, shaking his head head. “You are terribly naive… innocent in ways that make me ashamed of the thoughts I so frequently have about you. It was never loathing, only the pretense of it. But I fear that I have pretended so well, your animosity towards me might never abate.”
“You are not the only one who has been pretending,” she admitted, her voice little more than a whisper.
At first, Max was certain he had not heard her at all. That those barely audible words had been a figment of his imagination—a product of his desire for them to be true. But then she met his gaze and what he saw in her eyes so perfectly reflected his own feeling—all the longing, frustration… all the doubts and fears. But also, there was something else there. The slight flare of hope, of deeper feeling than either of them was ready to lend a name to. So he did what he had been longing to do. He strode toward her with purpose and pulled her into his arms, their bodies pressed together and for the second time, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that seared him to his very soul.
She kissed him in return with equal fervor. Her arms were about his neck, her hand sliding into his hair. It felt like the greatest of victories, as if he’d conquered an entire army or slayed a mythical dragon. Because it was what he had wanted for so many damned years and it was what he had thought he would never have. Violet, in his arms, soft and pliant… eager for his touch.
Max broke the kiss only long enough to sweep her up into his arms and carry her to the bed. When he placed her upon the mattress, she simply held her arms out, inviting him to join her. Tugging his shirt free of his breeches and tugging it over his head, he tossed the garment aside and then did as she’d bade. He laid down beside her, their legs tangled together. With more tenderness than he had ever dared show, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and then kissed the path it had followed… to the delicate shell of her ear, down her neck to that tantalizing curve where it met her shoulder.
The breath shuddered from her when he applied his teeth to that spot, gently but insistently. It would leave a mark, as had been his intent. Perhaps it was some primitive masculine instinct to mark her as his, but he had no wish to fight it.
“Max,” she uttered his name on a soft sigh. “I didn’t know I could feel this way.”
“How do you feel, Violet?”
“As if I’m burning from the inside out, as if the very blood in my veins has heated to the point of fever,” she admitted.
“Then I am doing my job well.”
“Your job?”
“Yes, Violet. My job. My duty. My desire. To bring you pleasure and passion… to show you just how glorious your body is and all that it is capable of. Do you trust me?”
“Always… even when we were at odds, I trusted you. You were the first person I turned to for aid… and that had nothing to do with my brother. That was simply you.”
Max plucked at the ties of her chemise until the gathered garment gaped open, baring a deep V of the delicate, pale skin between her breasts, down to her belly. Dipping his head, he pressed a kiss to that valley, then licked the tender skin until her eyes closed, her neck arched and she offered the bounty of her perfect breasts up to him. It was a temptation that he was both unable and unwilling to resist.
Turning his head, he found one furled tip and took it between his lips. She gasped in surprise, but when he laved that hardened bud with his tongue, that gasp turned to a soft, pleasured cry. He did not stop there. By turns gentle and demanding, he teased and taunted the tender peaks until she was gripping his hair, holding him to her. It was wholly unnecessary as there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
He curled one hand over her knee and then slid it upward, slowly, dipping beneath her chemise until he encountered the satin skin of her thighs. Dragging his lips from hers, he urged, “Open for me, Violet. Let me touch you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Violet hesitated. Not out of fear of Max, or even fear of the unknown, though that was certainly present. She hesitated out of fear that she was giving so much more of herself than simply her body. Max had the ability to break her heart and the closer she allowed him to get to her the more likely an outcome that would be. But the alternative, of never knowing his touch, of never experiencing what it would be like to be loved by him, to finally know what passion and desire truly meant—could she deny herself that?
Forcing herself to relax, to give him the access he demanded, she allowed him to part her knees. The feel of his fingertips skimming along her inner thigh, moving ever closer to the part of her that no one had ever touched, had her holding her breath. But when he reached the apex of her thighs, his large hand covering her mound there, she was unprepared for the onslaught of sensations that erupted within her.
It was wanton, perhaps. But was it wicked? They were married, after all, even if it had come about under unusual circumstances. And what if it was wicked? What was wrong with indulging in a bit of wickedness if it hurt absolutely no one?
She was at war with herself, wanting alternately to open for him entirely and let him do as he pleased. Another part of her wanted to shield herself from him, to hide from all that he evoked within her. But then he slid one finger along the seam of her sex, parting her gently. Suddenly, all thoughts of hiding were simply eradicated. He touched her in a way that compelled her to seek more.
The tip of his finger traced delicately over the most sensitive part of her, that light touch seeming to send a shower of sparks through her body. Her eyes closed, her back bowed even as she lifted her hips toward him, eager for his touch. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for an anchor as she felt she was losing herself entirely in that moment. But it was not an entirely unwelcome sensation. Being swept away by passion, by pleasure, but the unbearable intimacy of being touched in such a way, not by anyone, but by him, by the man for whom she had experienced a decade of yearning and longing.
“Max, I do not know what to do,” she admitted.
“Then do nothing, Violet. Let me take care of you, let me please you.”
“But what about your pleasure?”
He smiled down at her. “Giving you pleasure is my pleasure… for now. We’ve no need to rush. Not when we’ve waited so long already.”
She nodded. Unable to form words as he continued to touch her, to stoke the unbearable tension building within her. It was as if she were climbing to some dizzying height, some unknown precipice. Then, without warning, she tumbled. The pleasure swept through her, wave after wave, her body shuddering and rippling with it. It was not at all like what she’d read about in the few romantic novels she’d managed to sneak away with. It wasn’t at all like what she’d heard maids whispering about. Itwas so much more. It was magical. It was primal. It was all-consuming.
Before the last shudders had faded, he’d moved, positioning himself between her thighs. She understood, in theory, what would happen next. Perhaps it should have frightened her, but it did not. There was only curiosity and need. Because while the pleasure he’d already given her was beyond anything she might have imagined, the knowledge that so much more awaited her was too powerful to ignore. And too tempting.
Max clenched his teeth, steeling himself against the need he felt to simply bury himself inside her, to ease the ache that had been omnipresent for so very long. Taking his time, no matter the cost, he entered her slowly. He watched her face, taking note of every shifting expression, of any indication that he might be causing her pain. But it was Violet, after all. Bold. Audacious. Fearless. And she did not shrink from him. She met him with all the courage and audacity that he had always admired in her. That, if he were entirely honest, he had always loved her for.
