Page 41 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
That was all it took. His hands came up to frame her face, tilting her mouth to his. The kiss wasn't gentle—it was a claim, an unraveling. All the years of tension, of desire thinly veiled by manufactured hostility, simply ignited in an instant. Fierce. Hungry. Completely consuming.
Violet clutched at his coat, pulling him closer, needing the solid weight of him against her. When he broke the kiss to trail his lips along her jaw, down the elegant column of her neck she gasped with the riot of sensations that erupted within her. Then his mouth found the sensitive hollow beneath her ear and a ragged moan escaped her. And when his hands slid down, gripping her waist, drawing her flush against him, there was no mistaking his need. The hard length of him was rampantly evident and that knowledge, that he desired her so, only spiked the heat and the urgency she felt.
Max lifted her then, carrying her across the room to the bed as though she weighed nothing at all. He laid her down gently, reverently, and then stood back for a moment, his gaze devouring her.
"You're going to ruin me," he said, his voice ragged. "And I won't thank you for it."
"Liar," Violet said, breathless, tugging him down to her.
“It’s true. You could bring me to my knees, Violet, with naught but a glance, a word. And with you like this, nearly naked, warm, willing… a perfect blend of wantonness and innocence? No man could resist you. And I no longer wish to.”
Those words had cut through to the very heart of her. She’d never felt beautiful. Not truly. But he made her feel that way. And so she smiled up at him, raising her arms in invitation. “Then we are of an accord… because I have no desire to resist you.”
His clothes were shed with haste. And as he stood beside the bed, tall, proud—with ample reason—he looked at her in challenge. “Let me see you, Violet. All of you.”
Sitting up, Violet shrugged out of her chemise, the straps falling down and then the garment pooling at her waist. As she lay back, he reached for it, tugging it over her hips and down her bare legs until it could be discarded with his clothing. Then he looked his fill, his heated gaze moving over her from head to toe.
She was not so used to being naked in front of him that she didn’t feel the urge to hide herself, to shield herself from his unbearably intimate perusal of her. But she did not. She forced herself to simply lie back and allow him to study her.
“Perfection,” he declared, settling on the bed. He lifted one of her feet, kissing the inside of her ankle. Then he began to work upward, his teeth and tongue moving over tender flesh in a way that had her gritting her teeth to hold back desperate pleas. She needed him. To feel him moving inside her, filling her upand easing the unbearable, longing ache that she now felt. But those thoughts fled when he knelt between her parted thighs and pressed a kiss against her mound.
She’d heard of it. Whispers and giggles from serving girls had not given her a clear picture. It was beyond overwhelming to have his mouth on her, his tongue lapping at the hardened bud until she could do nothing but strain beneath him. With her heels pressed into the mattress, she lifted her hips, pressing against his questing mouth. And that bold gesture spurred him on.
It was not gentle. It was not faint and delicate, not loving and playful. It was only need. Pure hunger. The tension in her built to new heights and when it broke, she sobbed his name brokenly as wave after of pleasure racked her body.
Then he was moving up, levering himself over her and fitting himself between her parted thighs. In a desperate tangle, hands and mouths exploring skin longed for in silence. He kissed her like a man starved, worshipped her like a man who'd finally found something sacred.
And when he entered her, slow and deep and shaking with the effort to hold back, Violet's gasp turned into a moan of his name. The pleasure that had begun to recede simply reignited, leaving her trembling against him. Max stilled, forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked on hers.
"You're mine," he said hoarsely. "Not just tonight. Always."
“I’ve always been yours… even when you didn’t know it,” she whispered. “Are you mine?”
Max dropped his head down, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”
He moved then, thrusting deep with a deliberate rhythm that gave no quarter. Violet met him with equal fervor, her nails scoring his back, her legs wrapped tight around his hips. The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the sound of theirbreathing, the way they broke apart together—shattered and remade in each other’s arms.
After, with the sweat cooling on their skin and their limbs tangled beneath the sheets, Max brushed a kiss to her temple and whispered, “I have so many regrets, Violet. So many things we’ve said to one another over the years, how we have needled and tormented one another.”
Violet smiled, gloriously sated and entirely his. “I have only one regret… we waited so unnecessarily long to face the truth of our feelings. I can’t go back, Max. Not ever. And though my pride balks at being the first to say so, I have to tell you what you likely already know. I love you. I’ve loved you for all my life, And I will never stop.”
He rolled over onto his side, his fingertips skimming over the sensitive skin between her breasts. “What was it you said earlier? Then we are of one accord? I am wholly and unrepentantly in love with you. And I would not change it for all the wealth in England or beyond.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Violet strolled through the flourishing gardens of Alstead Manor, her spirits lifted by the serene surroundings and the joyful company of her new dog—the scrappy, mixed-breed mongrel named Hampton. The sun was bright but the afternoon air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming roses. The scene could only be described as bucolic, she thought.
And perhaps it was. It was certainly a far more peaceful life with Max than she had ever imagined possible. Obviously, they’d gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, she thought with a grin, but the tides had turned. Thinking of the night and the carnal endeavors they had shared that morning, they had turned quite dramatically.
Hampton, ever playful, darted among the flowerbeds, his tail wagging furiously as he chased after the sticks Violet playfully threw. As she laughed at Hampton's antics, a shadow fell across the lawn, chilling the warmth of the sun. Violet turned, her green eyes narrowing as she spotted Lord Eddington on horseback at the edge of the garden. His sudden appearance was like a dark cloud over her sunny day.
“Your grace," Eddington purred, his voice smooth yet carrying an undeniable threat.
Violet stiffened, clutching the stick tighter in her hand. It was hardly her weapon of choice but it was the best she could muster at present. "Lord Eddington, to what do I owe this unexpected... displeasure?"
"A lovely morning for solitude, though one might find it... a bit naive to be out here all alone. There are all manner of dangerous men about with their nefarious plots and schemes.” Eddington smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“You would certainly be terribly familiar with plots, schemes, and all things nefarious. They are your stock in trade, are they not?” She replied coolly. “Why are you here, sir? I would have your reasons and then I would have your absence.”
