Page 29 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
For a moment, they were a tangle of limbs, mouths, and tongues, but it still did not feel enough.
It did not matter that they were in a public, albeit dimly lit, place. Oliver had no plans of stopping. The force of his desire had him backing her up against the wall.
There was nothing to fear, Alexandra thought. She liked how he handled her, physically trapping her against the roughstucco. Her breasts were squished against his chest, her nipples hardening.
Then, reason came slithering back, slow to react but present once more. Even though his lips felt good on hers and their bodies fit as if they were made for each other, Alexandra was alarmed by how fast she had lost control.
She wanted to pull him closer, even though their bodies were already flush against each other. She could not understand the effects he had on her. Her breasts felt heavy. She felt like she was wading through water, her limbs too weak to move. Only, the kiss made her feelalive.
She moaned when the kiss finally ended. Her arms were around his neck, a result of the frenzy of lips and limbs.
He was not finished, however, his lips moving down to the pulse in her neck. It felt so pleasant, each brush of his lips caressing her skin.
She loved and hated that he knew just what to do, that his experience set her body on fire.
When his tongue dipped to taste and lick, her eyes flew open.
“No!” she cried out as if she had been burned.
It was one word, but it spoke volumes.
The two jumped apart and watched each other warily, their lips swollen and their breaths ragged.
“Alexandra…” Olive spoke her name like a prayer, his fingers running through his hair.
The strands were sticking out after she had mussed them with her hands.
“It’sDuchessto you, Your Grace,” she spat out, but her heart twisted at the cruelty of her own words.
She turned on her heel and rushed back to their private box, before the stricken look on his face could change her mind.
Chapter Twelve
Oliver had kissed many women in his life, especially when he was younger. As he got older and more jaded, he refused to kiss his lovers on the mouth. He would caress their bodies, help them reach climax, but he wouldn’t kiss them—for kisses were sacred.
He wanted to believe that whatever earth-shattering experience he just had was caused by that long period of abstinence.
He wanted to believe that Alexandra was not special.
Yet, even in the dim lights of the opera, he could still see every line of her face as if they were outside in the morning sun.
The way her emerald-green eyes glittered in the semi-darkness flashed in his mind, and he wondered what it would be like to lie with her in the same bed, to get a peek of those green eyes at night. Up close. No boundaries.
Alexandra had too many boundaries. Perhaps that was natural for someone who had no good experiences with men. Oliver wondered how much he had to do to peel back the layers and see the woman within—the real one, without any secrets and artifice.
As they made their way out of the opera house, they felt as if they were in on a secret as members of thetonsurrounded them, chattering among themselves. They felt like a single entity, separate from the rest, which felt strange, since they had already been married for a year. It felt like a slow realization.
Oliver made sure he walked beside her, even though her gloved hand was no longer holding his elbow. Every now and then, their hands would brush against each other. She would tense up at each contact, but she would not pull away. Oliver thought it a victory in a way.
“You were moved by the performance,” he commented in a low voice.
“Perhaps,” Alexandra replied, her tone neutral.
He eyed her curiously. “I rarely see you get affected by anything.”
“I am not made of stone, Your Grace,” she said, but her voice was hard, and her eyes seemed like emerald steel.
“I know that now.” His voice was now more intimate. “I have finally seen you moved by something other than music.”
