Page 8 of Her Wicked Duke
She sniffed haughtily. “My friends and I agree that having some experience before marriage is not a terrible idea,” she said confidently. “They have gotten away with it. Clarice has been courted several times, and I am sure she has experienced something with her last suitor. If some women can get away with it, why can’t I?”
Even with more distance between them now, Alexander’s laugh cut through her, deepening her shame. She was not a little girl anymore, yet he made her feel like that. A silly, little girl playing a woman’s game. That is what he thought of her, and she wished to change that.
“I fear those women are not your true friends,” he told her. “And I do doubt that this…Claricehas cavorted with her suitors. I do believe they are trying to encourage you to ruin your reputation. They might enjoy watching your downfall and snatch up moresuitors for themselves. You are among the finest ladies here tonight, Anne. They could feel threatened.”
Anne laughed at him. “What do you know about the life of a lady of the ton? Certainly not enough to judge my friends and me. They would not enjoy seeing me ruined. They care about me, which is more than you can say if you do truly see yourself as my friend.”
Alexander leaned in once again, and Anne could smell something masculine and handsome that she fought not to breathe in. Yet, her lower lip quivered—not in sadness, but in forlorn dismay. Oh, she wished she could simply push the Duke away. Yet, she did not entirely want to.
The Duke’s face drew close to hers, so close that she felt terrified of what she wished him to do. She saw how the lady had kissed the Earl’s neck. Her eyes fell on Alexander’s lean neck, the dark curls at the base, and she wondered how those curls might feel between her fingers.
“Alexander…” she whispered.
“If it is experience you want, Anne, then I can offer you both discretion and pleasure,” he whispered. “Why chase after an earl who is quite busy when a man is standing before you, offering himself?”
Anne shuddered at his suggestion.
Discretion and pleasure.
A heady warmth curled in her belly. Her lips parted as she exhaled shakily, and she tucked her hands behind her back to ground herself against the wall.
“You are crazy, Alexander,” she said, wishing her voice did not tremble.
Yet, the heat radiating from Alexander was tempting, and he leaned in ever closer. His eyes had darkened, and he waited for her answer.
“Christian will kill us both.”
She did not say,I do not want you, and she knew she should have.
Alexander pressed her further up against the wall, his hands braced on either side of her waist without touching her. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths.
“Your brother shall never find out,” he assured her.
His eyes fell on the rise and fall of her chest, only for a moment, before returning to her mouth. And, oh, Anne wanted to give in. She wanted to know how it felt to have that argumentative mouth on her skin. To know how she might feel when her face looked like those of the women outside with the Earl. She wanted the experience.
The Duke was right, he was offering it to her.
He shifted closer, his thighs brushing her skirts.
“Your Grace,” she whispered, raising her hands, not sure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
“Alexander,” he corrected, his voice dropping to a low purr, making her whimper. Almost as if he could coax pleasure from her body with his voice alone.
Every inch of her throbbed with the need to be close to him, to feel him, to be touched by him. Part of her thought he might not even make her ask.
Anne thought of that day when he had caught her in the study. She might have been sixteen when he had found her hiding beneath Christian’s desk. He had pressed a finger to his lips, and she had giggled, thinking they shared a secret. But his gaze on her had been intense and full of desire back then. She remembered now only because it mirrored the look in his eyes.
Something dark and smoldering. Something that made her feel naked and exposed without shedding a single layer of clothing.
Anne shivered, arching her back as if to have their clothes touch without their skins meeting.
“You are considering it, Anne,” Alexander noted. “Let me tempt you, as you tempt me.”
“My brother?—”
“I promise he would not find out.”
The Duke sounded so sure of himself, and Anne wanted to give in. Her lips parted, and she tried to calm down her breathing, to calm herself down. But his presence was imposing and all-consuming.
