Page 26 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
Theresa felt her face heat up. Was she actually having this conversation withhimof all people?
“Well, Sister Edith once told me that kissing comes before making b-babies,” she stammered. “And that it is supposed to feel wonderful!”
The corner of his lips quirked into a smirk. “It particularly boggles my mind as to why a nun in the countryside would profess to know so much about the act of making children.”
“W-Well, that is not my secret to tell!” She burst out defensively.
But he simplychuckled. A low laugh that rumbled deep in his broad chest.
Theresa looked at him in surprise. She had truly believed Sister Edith when she told her that particular tidbit a few days after her first courses had started.
Could she have been mistaken? Could there be some other way thatheknew?
“So, what you are saying is that you want me to kiss you?” The Duke drawled, slinking toward her with predatory grace. “In the interest of performing your wifely duties, of course.”
Theresa gaped at him and took a step back.
He took one forward.
She took two more back and hit the edge of his desk.
He reached for her, his fingers brushing a lock of hair that had fallen from her coif, whispering against her bare shoulder and igniting nerves she had never thought existed.
“If I were to kiss you now, you would not deny me, would you?” He murmured silkily, his face so close to her own that she could feel his warm breath against her warmer cheeks.
Theresa shook her head.No.
“Because it is your duty, and you are a good little wife, are you not, my dear?” His voice seemed to vibrate in her skin and skitter down her spine to pulse achingly in that secret place between her legs.
“I… I d-do not know how to be a wife.”
Why were her words coming out in gasps?
The slow smile that curved his lips only made her heart pound harder.
“I suppose I can show you a few things,” he murmured, his face dropping to where her neck met her shoulder. “For one, I do not need to kiss you to seduce you.”
He expertly turned her around until she was bent over his desk, her hands braced on the polished wooden surface. Heat arced down her spine as he trailed his fingers down her back, undoing the row of tiny buttons with practiced ease.
Her breath came out in a stunned gasp as her dress sagged down her shoulders.
“I can simply tell you to spread your legs for me,” he continued wickedly.
And theydid. They simply obeyed his command and parted like the Red Sea.
Impossible.
But what cognition she had left gave way to mindless pleasure the moment his hand snaked into the front of her loosened bodice, boldly cupping her breast and molding the soft flesh in his fingers as his whims dictated.
Her eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Heat tore through her like a blazing wildfire as she arched into his wicked hand, and when he lightly pinched an aching bud, a soft mewl finally escaped her.
Good Lord, the sun was still high up in the sky, the curtains were still open, and he was doing such things to her body that should have invited the wrath of God upon them.
But instead of divine fury, all Theresa felt was an aching need made even more insistent by the feel of his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh.
“Husband…” She moaned softly. “I think?—”
He made a sound of disapproval that was punctuated by his finger sliding through her folds, sparking mind-numbing pleasure in its wake.
