Page 57 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“Adam,” she said as she followed him up the stairwell, her skirts bunched in one hand as she hurried to keep up with him. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s late,” he said in that same dull voice. “You should go to bed.”
“Adam. Look at me.” She caught his arm, turning him back so he faced her again. “What’s wrong? What happened at the ball?”
He blinked, and in the moonlight, he looked bathed in darkness, his eyes like two wells of the deepest azure. She had already fallen into them, trapped like a fly in his web.
“Go to bed,” he repeated and turned away.
“Adam!”
“Leave me alone,” he snapped, his voice sharpening.
Well, at least she was provoking some response from him.
“I will not,” she said, catching the door to his bedchamber and following him inside. “I am your wife, Adam.”
“As though I am not aware.”
“Thentalk to me. Don’t ice me out as though I have no place in your life. You are keeping me here.” She stiffened when he turned, shoulders tight, to face her, his face hard. “I chose this, but I did not choose to be tossed aside.”
“You,” he said grimly, “are reading too much into the situation.”
“If I am, it’s only because you have given me no choice. What conclusion am I supposed to draw when you withhold all details from me? What am I supposed to think?” She stepped up to him, looking up into his face.
People thought he was cold, that he had the devil’s temper, and maybe that was true, but she saw the heat it contained. The passion. The pain. This was not a man she could dismiss as being heartless when she saw so much evidence of a heart.
He would not turn away from her now.
“Leave me be, Emmeline,” he said.
“I will not. You are my husband, and if something has happened to concern you, then it concerns me too.” She reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, marveling at herself and her boldness. “Talk to me.”
“Enough.” He caught her wrist, lowering it from his face. “Enough.”
“No.” Her word was soft, but she put every ounce of resolve she had into it. She would not back down.
He growled under his breath and yanked her closer. She crashed against his chest, breathless, expecting him to drag her out of the room. Instead, he brought his mouth down on hers.
He kissed her as though he were starving. As though he were drowning and she was the only air he needed to breathe.
He kissed her as though they were the only two people on the earth, and as though there was nothing more for them to do.
Emmeline returned his kiss with all the fervor that had built behind her sternum. When he had first left her, she had vowed that she would not forgive him easily, and yet with every hard, angry movement of his lips, her resolve crumbled.
And the longer he kissed her, the more his anger dissolved, too, replaced by a want that she understood, and a hunger that she felt. It warmed the pit of her stomach, an ache she could not ignore. Only he could see to it.
“Emmeline,” he said between kisses. “I am not the man for you tonight.”
“You are the only man for me.” She drew his face back to hers for another kiss. “I want you.”
He growled again, hands on her waist moving to her breasts, and with quick, careful yet confident movements, he palmed them. Her nipples, stiff and sensitive, sent pleasure to her core, and she tipped her head back, giving him access to her throat.
In this way and this way only, she would give him everything he desired. The ache in her tightened, and she could only gasp. “Please.”
He fell onto the bed, pulling her down into his lap, kissing her all the while. She tugged at her skirts, trying to raise them above her hips, while he hurried to unlace her dress, tugging at the strings. It felt as though there was a fire underneath them, pushing them to hurry, hurry, hurry. She needed his hands on hernow, needed him to feel how much she wanted him.
As though he could sense her thoughts, his hips bucked up, and she could feel his erection through his pantaloons. He groaned into her mouth, and she let out a low hum of pleasure. Her senses were tangled. All she knew was his hands, finally loosening her dress enough that he could tug it over her head. Her curls, already loose from their elaborate updo, tangled and tumbled free. He slid a hand into her hair and loosened the remainder of her pins.
