Page 84 of The Untamed Duke
"I've enjoyed ruining you in the most exquisite ways imaginable. Yet, still you beg me, frantic for more. I told you, do not love me. You did not heed my warning. We are through. It’s over.”
“You’ve not taken all of me. Not yet.” Huge tears dotted her cheeks, each glistening drop a knife stabbing his heart. Grabbing his hand, she held it tight against her breast. She was calm despite the tears. Her eyes would not let go of his. "Nicholas, tell me you love me."
Nicholas clenched his teeth as the lie, bitter and foul, came surprisingly easily to his lips. "I don't love you, Grace."
"And I don't believe you."
His smile was brutal. Any other woman would have recoiled in horror. "Oh, pet. The pain you feel at this moment is the very reason I do not allow myself to feel anything at all.”
Grace abruptly wrapped herself around him, embracing him with a strength born of restraining blooded stallions, from riding bareback against the wind along the shores of Cornwall, without benefit of bridle or saddle, from a lifetime of knowing what she wanted and persevering until she obtained it. She held tight. For whatever reason, and only God knew why, she held tight.
She wouldn't let him go. She would fight for him until her last breath. The knowledge took his own away.
Nicholas craved her with such aching, sweet tenderness, he almost sobbed aloud with overwhelming relief. Like centuries-old bricks constructed of the most fragile straw, his willpower crumbled.
A light glowed inside Grace. A thousand blazing candles. Starlight and the full moon. Fireflies dancing at twilight. The illumination of fairies and calm ocean waves sparkling. It all called to his darkness, dragging him into brightness. She was the sun, and he could not resist her warmth.
"Christ, Grace. I cannot fight you,” he muttered in despair. “I can't. I can’t.”
"Don’t.” Came her simple response. “Don’t fight me, Nicholas. Please, it will be all right. You must believe that.”
Taking what she offered was like capturing lightning with his bare hands. Impossible and dangerous. But dear God, he wanted her. Her. Grace Willsdown. Fierce. Stubborn. Passionate. Kind.
All wrapped up...a beautiful gift.
A tiny package he would devour until there was nothing left of her. All of her light swallowed in his darkness.
“Grace, bloody hell. You don’t understand what you’re asking of me— “
“I do know. I’m asking you to love me. I need you...to stop this anguish, this terrible slicing of my insides that leaves me in bloody ribbons of ache and want.”
“I released you from the contract. I ceded the encumbrance.” Nicholas made one last futile attempt. “There can be no more nights together. I would be a monster if I allowed myself… Go. Please… please. Before I hurt you.”
“Take me into your arms, Nicholas. Hold me andneverlet me go. Not just tonight. Every night.”
“Oh God, Grace.”
Before he knew what was happening, his hands buried in her hair, hauling her tighter against him. Their mouths crashed together and the groan escaping him spoke volumes. Her lips were lush and sweet and perfect. He would never tire of tasting them, of tasting her. Touching her, feeling her warmth.
“Take me, Nicholas,” she breathed. “In my heart, I’m yours. Make me yours in truth. Make love to me without the damned contract deciding for us. I’m not leaving until you do.”
In a sudden fluid movement, Nicholas hoisted her high against his body, spinning so he could deposit her upon his desk. Right where he commanded she place herself earlier. There was none of his previous animosity present now. He kissed her as though he was a doomed man and she his only salvation. Over and over, he plundered her mouth. Nipped at her lips, then soothed them with a flick of his tongue. A thousand hot, needy kisses down the column of her throat.
Somehow, even with his arms wrapped around her, Grace tugged her jacket off. Pulling open the thin cambric shirt, Nicholas swallowed at the sight of her creamy flesh caged within the sparse lace trimmings of a simple corset. With a sigh of reverence, he traced the curves and outlines of her breasts with first a forefinger, then his lips. Without uttering a single word, he worshipped her, silently begging her forgiveness for all the ugly, hurtful things said in his desperation.
“Nicholas, I’m yours. Yours…” Grace whispered, again and again, clutching his head against her, arching into the heat of his mouth.
He loosened the corset’s strings, pushing the contraption down just enough so the tips of her breasts were exposed. In turn, he drew each nipple into a tight, sucking vortex, raking the sweet, little buds with the sharpness of his teeth until she shuddered. He would devour her. Take every inch of her. Hope she survived so he could do it again.
“I’ve made you wet, haven’t I? Do you want me to take you here?” he murmured against her skin, glancing up to see her reaction. “Squirming and off balance on my desk?”
Grace’s eyes registered shock. “No, I—”
The corners of Nicholas’s mouth lifted. “You are such a liar.” He bit her nipple again until she moaned in response, giving him his answer. He could take her anywhere he pleased.
It was impossible to get closer to the welcoming heat between her thighs, the design of her riding habit preventing it. The tighter skirt would only spread so far, and Grace was trapped within its confines. She whimpered, as frustrated as Nicholas by this development, until his hands snaked beneath her skirt, brushing past the delicate fabric of her undergarments.
Then his fingers were gliding over aroused, silky skin and Grace’s eyes fluttered shut. Her hands clenched his shoulders, her knuckles turning white.
