Page 29 of The Untamed Duke
She flew off the bed, slapping Nicholas with all her might. She struck him again. And again. Her arms became whirling weapons of stinging blows, fingernails curving with vicious intent, aiming for his eyes, trying to rake across his face.
Snarling, Nicholas snatched her up, ripping the towel away in the process. He struggled to control her, deflecting the blows she rained upon his head and torso. One tiny fist caught his jaw with enough force that his teeth clinked together. He rocked back on his heels.
"Goddamn it, Grace," he hissed. "Stop! Now!"
Grace did not heed the absence of the towel. Her only goal was to escape. If it meant doing so as bare as the day she was born, then so be it. Self-loathing fear destroyed any embarrassment she should have experienced in being nude before him.
What difference does it make anyway? He’s been with countless women. What is one more naked body to his jaded eyes?God, God, God... What have I done?
Chapter 11
Sometimes I wonder
Would I miss this ice
This heated fury
Would I know myself without it
~Nicholas August Harris March
Ninth Duke of Richeforte
With a muttered curse,Nicholas capture Grace’s hands in one of his. When her sharp teeth raked his knuckles, he fisted a chunk of her hair, yanking hard. In an effortless motion, he tossed her back onto the bed and sank a knee beside her on the mattress.
Ripping his cravat from his throat, he worked with the quickness of an experienced sailor. In seconds, the length of silk wound about her wrists, anchoring her to the ornate headboard.
"Have you gone mad?" she choked, writhing against the tangled sheets, the knots of the restraints tightening. "Let me go!"
"I'm rather partial to this face of mine." Nicholas sat back on his heels. “And you seem intent on scratching my eyes out."
"You...you heartless monster. You can't do this!" She panted like a trapped lion cub, her hair clinging to her body in dark gold strands of wet silk.
"I just did," he taunted, breathing easier once he wrestled control of her. Damn, she fought like a hellion.
His knuckles bore teeth marks. Tiny scores crisscrossed the skin, blood seeping from the deeper cuts. A scattering of fine crimson droplets marred the crisp fabric of his shirt. As he unbuttoned it, Grace stared at his bloodied hand. "Once you calm down, I'll untie you."
For his kindness, she kicked him, a foot landing dangerously close to his groin. Snagging her ankle with one hand, he squeezed until she emitted a sharp gasp.
"Careful, little bee,” he warned, eyes narrowed. Relaxing his fingers, he traced the fragile bones, aware he’d probably left bruises. She was so finely wrought, her limbs delicate but strong. "Do it again, and I’ll bind your legs as well. You won’t like that as much as I will."
His gaze swept her from head to foot, the leisurely consideration making her squirm. Seeing her like this, naked, wet, furious, lashed to his bed was incinerating. Blood rushed through his veins in a sizzling onslaught. "Or perhaps I should...."
"You wouldn't dare!" Her eyes glowed with disbelief and fury. Cornered and caught, she refused to yield. A glimmer of admiration swept Nicholas.
"Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed. "You do tempt me. For you, I would dare many things.”
"You are vile..." she sputtered, kicking at him again. "A monster..."
He smirked. "Endearments will not sway me. And that's twice you've called me a monster. I don’t like it.”
Kissing her at that moment was essential. Like breathing air into his lungs or food, water—all necessary for survival.
He leaned over her, his head lowering. Swallowing her outrage, he stole possession of her mouth, molding and shaping it until it fit his own.
Grace snapped against the restraints, wiggling in vain for freedom, squealing her outrage, but Nicholas slid his arms around her waist, holding her immobile. Pressing the upper half of her body into the bed, he took what he wanted, kissing her the way he wanted.
Plunging deep with his tongue, swirling to taste her, he left no part of her mouth undiscovered. His intentions morphed into something darker than a simple desire to teach the girl a lesson she'd not soon forget. He would relish any excuse for rendering her completely at his mercy.
