Page 50 of Her Duke Next Door
“I will do anything in the interest of my daughters,” she told him.
And that bold statement, and her asking him to call her by her first name, overwhelmed Dominique. He could not help himself. For the last two weeks of travel had made him grow stronger in his affections. And now, looking at her, he could not deny that he had missed her.
She looked beautiful in the afternoon sun slanting in through his study. He could not help himself.
He stepped forward, taking her face between his hands.
You have done this before, he told himself.Why are you so hesitant now?
He knew he was because now he felt something fluttering below his stomach, something that felt like nerves or worry or a genuine affection for the woman before him. Hiswife. The woman he had sworn to protect.
A woman who was not afraid of him, despite what people said.
He leaned in to kiss her.
He deepened the kiss almost immediately when something loosened in his chest, a tension he had been holding onto so he did not overstep Mary’s boundaries.
“Mary,” he said, whispering her name onto her lips. He waited for her to push him away, to tell him to stop, that she did not want him, but when she did not, he only moved closer into her personal space. He slid his hands higher to tangle in her dark curls as he pushed her back into the window. When he pulled back, she was backlit by the sun, a glowing goddess, a beautiful woman beneath his hands.
“My wife,” he murmured to himself, looking at her. Warmth curled through him as he smiled, before leaning in to kiss her. Mary’s mouth parted beneath his, and she let out a decadent whimper as she pressed herself back to the window, still.
But then she relaxed beneath his touch, bit by bit. He placed one hand on the glass behind her, almost stopping her from leaving because he could not bear that thought. His other hand moved so he could thumb along her lower lip, pressing it between her lips.
Mary’s eyes fluttered closed as she ran her tongue over the tip of his thumb before he pulled her mouth back onto his.
“Say my name,” he begged of her as he kissed her deeply. They parted briefly, only for him to hear her utter the word.
“Dominique,” she murmured.
“Again,” he told her.
“Dominique,” she moaned softly as he pressed his lips to her neck, sucking softly. He tugged her skin between his teeth, nipping his way down to her shoulder. Mary’s hands slid over the back of his dark hair, carding through the thick length.
“And again,” he whispered along her shoulder, pushing down her dress sleeve to plant a kiss there. It was far tender than he would have usually been but there was something about this woman thatdidsoften him at times. He wanted to throw her onto his desk and devour her but he also wanted to make her gasp and whimper and moan his name in this softer, more sensitive way.
“Dominique.”
The way she grew more breathless each time she said his name had him stirring in his trousers. Her legs parted even as she arched back against the window, and he was glad she had the thought to close the door to his study. He stepped between her legs, his chest pressed to hers.
Her eyes widened when he pressed his hardening length against her.
“Can I touch you, Mary?” he asked.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she nodded. He buried his face in her neck again as he rolled against her, finding friction against her body. Mary’s hand pressed to his chest and he paused, waiting to see if she was pushing him away or not.
“I—I have dreamed of things like this,” she whispered. She said it in short bursts as if she did not know if she quite wanted to make the confession. But it made Dominique grow stiffer between his legs. He strayed a hand to the fastenings on his trousers, relieving himself of the tight confines.
“And what happened in those dreams?” he asked, his voice rough.
All he could see—all he ever wanted to see—was Mary’s rosebud lips parted in desire as he slid a hand up her thigh, over her dress. “Did I touch you here?” he asked her, circling his touch until he grew closer to her inner thigh.
“Or perhaps here?” He went on, drawing his hand closer to where she would part for him. By the sharp inhale of breath, he had guessed correctly. He grinned wickedly. “And was it under your dress, Mary? Did you allow me to see your skin, to lift up your dress and bare you so daringly for my own pleasure?”
“Dominique, I…” she murmured, letting her head fall back against the window as she pushed her hips up into his touch, over her dress. He dropped his hand to between her legs, through her dress, and felt the heat coming from that area, even though he had not yet pulled her dress up. No, he wanted her thoroughly teased before he did that.
“You must tell me with your words, Mary, or I cannot please you how I did in your dreams.”
“Please,” she whispered when his other hand reached into his own trousers to take himself in his grip.
