Page 13 of The Matchmaker Meets her Duke
Emmett’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight coming in through the curtains. “Yes, and while it worked, I seem to recall enjoying it.”
Pandora lay frozen on the bed as Emmett reached her, hand skating over her cheek so gently she almost thought she imagined it.
“You only want an heir,” said Pandora in a whisper as her eyes slid shut.
Emmett’s hand slid down her neck and shoulder to her waist and pulled her close. “I want you,” he said. “You are a beautiful woman.”
Pandora’s breathing came a little quicker as she felt him lean in.
He didn’t allow her any time to hesitate or pull away. His lips captured hers and Pandora gasped in surprise. Emmett wasted no time and his tongue darted into her mouth, caressing, and cajoling her into responding.
And Pandora couldn’t help but respond. She relaxed into him, hand coming up to grasp his shoulder. His other arm snaked under her neck and his hand tangled into her loose braid.
This was unlike the first kiss, where his lips had been demanding and almost mad. He was insistent, yes, but Pandora wasn’t caught off guard this time. The hand on her waist was gentle, not grasping, and he paused as she shifted against him.
This felt… safe.
Pandora arced into him, breasts pushing into his firm chest, skin separated only by two thin layers of fabric, and Emmett made a sound of satisfaction deep in his chest. The sound brought gooseflesh up on her skin, and she shivered.
Emmett pulled her tight against his chest as her head fell back. Heat began to creep through her belly in a way that was both pleasant and startling. She was kissing Emmett, the man who had essentially tricked her into marriage.
Reality crashed down on her and she pulled back with a gasp, nearly falling off the bed as she scooted backward.
Emmett simply raised an eyebrow at her, lips flushed and eyes dark with desire.
“You kissed me,” said Pandora.
Emmett laughed, shoulders shaking. “Yes, I believe I did. And I also believe you enjoyed it.”
“I… didn’t dislike it, precisely. I’m just–”
“New at this, you’ve said.”
Pandora shook her head. “No, I mean… I have difficulty reconciling you with the man I wrote about in the papers.”
Emmett shrugged. “I am the same man I’ve always been. Just because you have a particular image of me doesn’t mean I’ll agree to fit it.”
“You are a rake, and a gambler, and a womanizer,” said Pandora in a steely voice.
“I will agree to that in the privacy of this room, yes. But don’t you go writing about it in your gossip column.”
“Your reputation is my reputation now, I will do no such thing. But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up all of my pursuits.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Emmett.
“How soon can I throw my next matchmaking party?” asked Pandora.
It was Emmett’s turn to go stiff. “Pardon me?”
“My matchmaking parties. I want to resume them now that you’ve married me.”
Emmett threw his head back and laughed, but the sound was cold, tinged with scorn. “As if I’d allow a matchmaking party to take place under my own roof.”
Pandora’s eyes narrowed. “I needn’t impose on you, Your Grace, I have Ravenswood Manor.”
“And as your husband, I specifically forbid you from throwing a party of such a kind, here, or anywhere.”
“Then I must specifically forbid you from my bed! Please leave, immediately.”
