Page 28 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“I know our arrangement is far from ideal, Duchess, but… at least think of me as a friend, or even a companion. I need to know what is happening to you.”
“You say that now, Your Grace, but you’re no different,” Alexandra muttered, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Men like you always find something more interesting to chase. You’ll move on the moment it suits you.”
Oliver’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something intense igniting within them.
“Is that truly what you think of me?” His voice was low, tinged with disbelief.
She crossed her arms over her chest, desperately trying to maintain her composure. “You make everything seem like a game, and I do not care for games.”
He stepped closer, the air between them thick with tension. “Maybe that’s because you think everyone will play you. Not everyone is your father, Alexandra.”
His words struck her, igniting a mixture of anger and confusion.
“I am not talking about him,” she retorted, but the defiance in her voice wavered under the weight of his gaze.
“No?” His voice dropped, each word heavy with unspoken meaning. “Then who are you talking about?”
Her pulse quickened, the challenge in his eyes pulling her in, even as she fought against it. She wanted to step back, to shield herself from the heat radiating off him, but instead, she held her ground, her breath hitching in her throat.
“I do not want to be a temporary amusement for you,” she finally snapped, her voice sharper than she had intended. “You might find this situation amusing, but I do not.”
“Amusing?” He took another step forward, their bodies nearly touching now, the tension between them palpable. “Do you think I am amused by this? By you?”
The sincerity in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She shook her head, trying to dispel the desire blooming within her. “I think you are used to getting what you want without consequences.”
“And you think you’re so different?” he challenged. “Running away from what’s in front of you, acting like none of this matters?”
Her heart raced, each word a taut string pulled tighter between them.
“What do you want from me, Your Grace?” she demanded, her frustration mixing with the undeniable thrill of his proximity.
His gaze darkened, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I want you to stop pretending that this doesn’t exist.”
Every word wrapped around her like a silken thread, drawing her in, blurring the lines of anger and attraction. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and for a moment, she was too stunned to respond.
“I’m not pretending,” she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her best efforts to sound strong.
Oliver let out a low, frustrated laugh. “Then what are you doing, Alexandra?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. She opened her mouth to reply, but the words eluded her. All she could focus on was the way he stood so close, the warmth of his body igniting every nerve in her.
Oliver’s eyes softened slightly, understanding flickering in them. He reached out, his thumb brushing lightly against her wrist, sending shivers down her spine.
“One day,” he said quietly, “you’ll stop pretending.”
His lips crashed against hers before she could take another breath. The heat of him, the force of him—it stole every thought, every ounce of resistance.
For a moment, she froze, her mind racing with panic.
But then her body responded instinctively, hungrily. She kissed him back, her hands clutching at his coat as if she needed him to hold her up.
It wasn’t the kiss she had imagined—gentle, slow. This kiss was raw, consuming, and she felt like she was drowning in it. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him in ways she had never allowed herself to admit.
The rest of the world vanished. The opera, her fears, her secrets—none of it mattered. At this moment, there was only Oliver.
There was no doubt that she kissed him back as if she had done it so many times before. The taste of his lips, his tongue, destroyed the last fragment of her resistance.
She tugged at his hair again, and he grunted but did not stop ravishing her mouth. All the frustration and desire she had been repressing had exploded into the open.
