Page 110 of Bound to the Heartless Duke
She gave a small, breathless laugh, and then it was his turn to inspect her. His hands were slow, just like before, sliding over her shoulders, down her arms, and then pausing at her waist. When he found the faintest mark near her collarbone, his thumb traced it, his jaw tightening.
“It is nothing,” she murmured, trying to comfort him through her words.
“I will decide what is nothing.”
Her breath caught when his hand lingered there, his touch warm and firm on her skin.
She could not look away from him, could not think beyond the fact that the gap between them was almost invisible.
When his gaze dropped to her lips again, he didn’t look away.
The last thing she heard before the world narrowed to him was his voice, low and deep.
“Lily…”
And then he leaned in, closing the space between them with a heat that promised the night was not nearly over.
CHAPTER 26
Lily felt it in every inch of her being, the way his mouth descended on hers with a hunger that startled them both.
It was not a chaste meeting of lips, but a claiming. His hands cupped her face and stroked it, as if he could not bear to let go.
When he deepened the kiss, she moaned. She had been dying for this.
Heat pooled between her legs. Her lips opened beneath his, welcoming his tongue to tangle and wrestle with hers.
Without conscious thought, she fisted her hands in his shirt, wanting to feel the solid heat of him. That coaxed a low growl from Magnus, and he pulled her into him. She felt every hard ridge of im against her softness and sighed, sagging into him. Fierce yet so careful, as though she were both his prize and his undoing.
When he tore his mouth from hers, his breathing was ragged. “Lily… you do not know what you are asking for.”
She met his gaze steadily, her cheeks flushed with desire. “I want more,” she whispered.
His answer was a simple, quiet curse, before his hands reached for the laces of her gown. Slowly, oh so slowly, he loosened each tie, his knuckles grazing her skin as he worked, his gaze never once leaving her face.
When the gown slid down her arms and pooled at her feet, his breath caught audibly. She stood before him in her chemise, the low lamplight outlining her form.
“God help me,” he muttered, stepping closer—if that was possible.
Then, his hands touched her arms, stroking them gently before cupping her face and then moving to her shoulders to push down the straps of her chemise until it, too, fell away.
She gasped softly at the intensity of his gaze.
He bent his head, not to kiss her mouth but to claim the tender slope of her shoulder. His lips trailed lower to the swell of her breasts, planting a feather-light kiss that made her breath grow heavy.
Then, with torturous slowness, he took one nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing, his teeth grazing just enough to make her bury her fingers in his hair.
Her head fell back, a quiet moan escaping her lips. He alternated between one breast and the other, lavishing them with equal devotion, until her legs trembled and pressure grew in her belly.
His hand trailed down, over the curve of her hip and the length of her thigh. Every movement was bold and unhurried. His fingers found the heat between her legs before stroking through the damp silk of her underthings.
She gasped, and her hips bucked slightly against his hand.
“I told you, Lily—only I get to touch you,” he murmured against her skin.
His fingers slid beneath the fabric, parting the lips of her sex in a way that made her shudder.
He found her sensitive clit and began to circle it lightly with his fingers, before sinking one long finger inside her. The sensation made her knees weaken, but his other arm came around her waist, holding her upright.
