Page 46 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
Their eyes met then, and Oliver felt a shiver run through him—through each part of him she tended to.
His eyes darkened. The usually composed Duke of Westgrave was nowhere to be seen; in his place stood a man at the edge of his control.
He exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.
“Do you want to know why I ended up at Devil’s Draw tonight?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “It wasn’t simply about the need for control, though I told myself that it was. It was because of you.”
Alexandra blinked, taken aback by his admission. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She only stared at him, searching his face, her fingers curling into the fabric of her night robe.
“You are driving me to madness, Alexandra,” he continued, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The touch was deceptively soft, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. “I see you, and I lose every bit of sense I possess. I have never wanted anything—anyone—this badly. And it is making me lose my control.”
Alexandra drew in a shaky breath. “You… you’re losing control… because of me?” she whispered.
“Is it so difficult to believe?” His eyes searched hers, his grip tightening on her waist in case she might slip away. “I have worked so hard to become the master of my own desires, Alexandra. But with you—” He paused, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “With you, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge.”
His words hung in the air between them, laden with unspoken need.
Alexandra raised her hand, gently pressing her palm against his chest. Oliver knew she could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her fingers.
“I… I feel it too,” she admitted, before swallowing. “Why should we fight it at all if we both feel this way?”
Oliver let out a low, humorless laugh. He rose to his feet and stepped closer to her, crowding her against the table, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck.
He leaned down, his lips inches away from hers. “Because once I have you, I will not hold back,” he murmured roughly. “And I will ruin you in ways you can’t even imagine.”
“And what if I want to be ruined?” she whispered back, her eyes searching his.
A growl rumbled in his chest, and before she could say another word, his lips crashed against hers.
Chapter Nineteen
The kiss was possessive, demanding, yet filled with desperation. Oliver gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and Alexandra gasped into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging him closer.
His lips knew exactly where to go, where to kiss and ravish—no doubt he had many lovers before her.
Her insecurities reared their heads, but before she could pull away, his hands were roaming over her back.
He was pulling her closer, and somehow, all her fears evaporated.
There were no more reservations. No more walls. No more objections. She was ready to surrender to him, even if she did not know what it would mean in the future.
Both had been too contained, too careful to express their real emotions. Tonight was different.
Alexandra traced the line of his jaw with her fingers, reveling in the feel of his trimmed beard.
She shivered at the thought of feeling it on other parts of her body.
Oliver trailed kisses down her neck, making her whimper. Her skin felt alive beneath his lips. She could feel the heat radiating from his battered body, the way his hands trembled slightly as they continued to roam over her.
Anticipation. Desire. They left her breathless and dizzy. Perhaps she should put a halt to this. Perhaps she wasn’t ready. However, a voice in the back of her head egged her on, asking her when she’d be ever ready. Who else could she give her virtue to but to her husband?
“Your Grace,” she whispered, “what are we doing?”
Oliver paused to look into her eyes, his lips hovering just above the pulse in her neck. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But I need you, Alexandra.”
“I need you, too,” she echoed, pulling him closer.
A part of her still reminded her to be cautious. He was badly bruised. He was in pain.
