Page 81 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“You tease me,” she accused.
“I do not.”
But he could not keep the smile from his face, and it was something Veronica was becoming used to.
He kissed her lightly, playfully. “It is not my intention to tease; my intention is to doexactlywhat I said. I shall have you bared to me in your nightgown tonight and have your sweet sounds of pleasure ringing throughout Westley Manor.”
Her cheeks burned to think of it, but her body responded quicker, especially when he cupped her intimate area through her dress. She pulsed with desire. He quickly removed his hand and thigh when they heard footsteps, and Mrs. Nelson walked past up ahead. She spared them only a brief nod, recently used to their closeness.
“In here,” Veronica whispered, as if they were playing a secretive game to hide.
They stumbled into the music room, her original destination regardless, and Henry slammed the door closed, pinning Veronica to it. His teeth dragged down her neck, his breathing rough against her. She could feel his length hardening.
“I would take you on the dining table and send all my staff out if you only said the word,” he growled against her skin. “You make me ravenous. I would have you spread out for me, your legs around my head, while I feasted only on you, sated only with your taste.”
The words sent shivers through Veronica, and she kissed him feverishly, tangling her fingers in his hair. He slid his thigh backbetween her legs and she found herself grinding against him, finding relief as he took her hands in his and pinned her arms behind her back.
“Do you not wish to be touched?” she asked, breaking the kiss. “Is that why you bind my hands?”
“No,” he answered, “I crave your touch on me, but I crave your submission more. I am in charge ofwhenyou touch me, and your pleasure is my first thought.”
“But you will let me touch you in return, will you not?”
He leaned in close, his mouth ghosting across her cheek. “Only if you beg for it.”
Veronica gave a helpless sound of pleasure.
“Later,” he told her, laughing darkly as he pulled away. “What is it you wished to show me?”
“I have quite forgotten,” she said, aroused and frustrated now that he had teased her.
But of course, he had.
He enjoyed this game of riling her up so often. They had been intimate several times throughout the week, Henry’s taste for rougher, dark pleasure rubbing off on Veronica in the late nightsand early mornings, and he often brought her close to that edge before denying her the relief of her climax. And then he would send her flying over it with another act that always had her dazed for a while afterwards.
She snapped back into focus and strode towards the curtains. “Do you notice anything different?”
“No,” he answered, looking at them with his head cocked. “Should I?”
“Yes! They were bright red two days ago,” Veronica muttered. “And now they are pale pink. Soothing. Calm.”
“And matching your pianoforte bench,” he noted.
“Exactly,” Veronica replied, proud of herself. “I take after my mother when it comes to decorating. She always loved looking at rooms of Grantham House and seeing what could be changed. It meant a lot to her to keep up with the changing eras.”
“And that is what you wish to continue with Westley Manor?”
“Yes,” she answered. “And Turner Hall, if you will let me, although I imagine it is much more fashionable than here.”
“It is designed how I like it,” Henry told her. “But you may put some touches to the house.”
He turned to her, bringing her close to the window with a hold on her hand. She was led by him willingly, curling her fingers in his shirt. Henry’s dark eyes bore into her as he held her. It was oddly tender, and she hummed, letting herself be carried away in the moment.
He leaned down to her, pressing his lips to hers. It was a more intimate kiss than the one in the hallway. This one felt like a stolen moment, a whisper of softness that was not the normal way of the Duke of Westley, but Veronica welcomed it all the same.
She tipped her head up to him, and he held the back of her head in his hand, allowing her to slip her arms around his neck.
“You do not know,” he said, voice rough, “the thoughts of you that plague me at night.”
