Page 61 of Her Duke Next Door
Dominique whirled around to find his wife emerging from her bathroom, her hair wet and free from any style, long dark cascades tumbling down her back. For a second, Dominique could only stare, dry-mouthed, at his wife who had not yet seen him.
“Louisa, I was thinking—Oh, I thought you were my maid.”
Wrapped in only a towel, Dominique could see every droplet of water sliding down her shoulders, her breastbone, and her neck. He swallowed, his length twitching in his pants.
“I did not mean to intrude,” he said. “I came for my boots. I believe you took them. Or let your lady’s maid take them.”
He looked at her from top to bottom slowly, languidly, taking every curve he could see. He smiled at her. She glanced around, spying her robe on the bathroom door, and went to reach for it.
“Do not,” he told her. Mary’s hand froze at the order, her face and neck flushing. “I am rather enjoying admiring my wife.”
“As much asIam enjoying your gaze, Dominique, I must correct you,” she said. “I did not take your boots.”
“Oh, really? Why were they in here?” He smirked at her. “Did you wish me to approach your chambers, Mary?”
Dominique stalked closer to her, setting a predatory gaze on her, as he followed a water droplet as it slid down her skin, right between the dip between her breasts that began a moment before the towel covered her.
“Dominique, I did not,” she laughed softly. “If I wanted you here I would have asked.”
“Then why did you not ask?” He stepped closer to her.
“Because you have not touched me since that day in the dining room, nor did you want our coupling to go further. You walked away while… Affected by what you did, and yet you did not wish me to touch you or for you to pleasure me more. I have wondered why you do not take anything further.”
“Oh, Mary,” he purred. “I have thought of nothing but your sweet taste ever since that day,” he told her. “I have thought only of how your skin burned against my mouth. Of your cries ringing out in the hall. I walked away because I would have taken you right there on the table had I let myself, and I wished for a less rushed space the first time I pleasured you with my body.”
He heard her breath catch, and it pleased him.
“Dominique, I?—”
“Yes?”
“I did not steal your boots.” Her voice was breathless, and he wished to have her words in his mouth, melting on his tongue, breathy pleas of passion. But at her insistence a new thought hit him. He had trusted his daughter and found his boots but now he saw therealtrickery.
He let out a laugh, sighing. “I know you did not.”
“But you just?—”
“I know,” he said. “Once again our daughters have meddled.”
It dawned quickly on Mary’s face as she shook her head. “They shall grow up to be like the Matchmaker that resides in London.” She laughed softly.
But Dominique knew it was not all a joke. “Do you not see what is happening, Mary? Why do they play these games with us, always drawing us back together in one way or another? They want us to be together.”
“But we are,” she protested.
“Properly,” he insisted. “As they imagine a perfect family being. Their parents beingin love, Mary.”
He saw several expressions cross her face and knew them well: the looks of words held back.
Tell me, he wanted to say.Tell me every damned thought in your mind. I shall not flinch, Mary. Not any longer.
But he let her keep her space, for now, as he stepped closer. Mary retreated a step but her back hit the door of her bathroom. Her eyes were wide, on him. Not fearful but more challenging, as if she wished to play this game of chase.
“I must—I must put on my robe,” Mary said, sounding as though it was the last thing she wished to do.
“Forget the damned robe,” he murmured, reaching for the edge of her towel.
“Why?” she asked, a demure smile on her face. Oh, this wife of his had so many hidden depths. She truly was as insolent as he once accused. “You never finish what you start. Why come any closer, husband?”
