Page 79 of The Duke's Forbidden Bride
Spencer rose from his seat, clearly eager to leave the escort and his beguiling ways, and Eleanor did not mind following suit.
She smiled shyly at Julian’s smirk.
“Oh, and Your Graces?” Julian said right as they reached the main door. “A word of advice. Bed one another already; it is painful to see you yearn for one another.”
He fixed Spencer with a long, knowing look, but the man quickly strode out of the door, and Eleanor barely held back a nervous laugh as she followed.
The door closed behind them, and the night air did little to chase away the lingering blush on her cheeks.
Chapter Nineteen
“Gray was right,” Spencer muttered as soon as they entered Everdawn House. His fingers closed around Eleanor’s wrist before she could step toward the staircase. “I do yearn for you, and I am tired of pretending I do not want you in my bed.”
Before she could even react, he tugged her toward him, her startled look frozen as his mouth closed over hers. Her gasp was swallowed immediately by his kiss. It was not their first, nor even their second, but it caught her off-guard nonetheless.
The kiss chased away any hesitation she had and made her relax in his arms as he backed her up against the wall. One of his hands landed on her hip, pinning her in place. He pressed his body against hers, and the groan he let out made her knees buckle.
It was the sound of a man tired of holding himself back.
Her hands moved on instinct, one burying itself in the thick mane of his hair to keep him pressed against her, and the other cupping the scarred side of his face. Her fingers traced the ridges of his scar, and she waited for him to pull away with a growl. But he didn’t.
He nipped her lower lip, making her gasp, and he used the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. Her muffled moans spurred him to press closer to her, his breath short between kisses.
He kissed her so hard that she swore the walls around them faded away, and the hand on her hip drew slow circles, teasing her.
Eleanor knew that neither of them was ready to openly acknowledge what was budding between them. However, neither was content to ignore it. A clashing of contradictions that turned into an explosive passion as their mouths hungrily claimed one another.
Against her, Spencer’s body was firm and hard, all broad strength and certainty, as if she could fall against it and know she would be supported. That was how he made her feel—she would never have to worry about not being caught.
“I cannot stop thinking about how you felt that night in the conservatory,” Spencer murmured against the corner of her mouth, before kissing his way to the curve of her cheek and the line of her neck.
His fingers were already tugging at the laces of her dress, and she found that there was not one ounce of protest on her tongue.
“Not simply your body against mine, but how you felt…” His fingers on her hip slipped to the inside of her thigh. “Here.”
Eleanor’s breath caught. Delicately, she lifted her hips, seeking the hard bulge she had felt in his breeches that night. Sure enough, it brushed against her thigh.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes rose to her husband’s. The low light from the candles danced across his scar, but she didn’t care how much it stood out. She didn’t care about it all except the terrible story it told, and while she wanted to hear it, her pressing need took over.
Spencer’s eyes were hooded, lingering on her mouth. Then, they moved further down to her neckline. To where her breasts rose and fell with every heavy breath.
He swallowed, lowering his lips to her breastbone. He pressed a featherlight kiss to it, but at that moment, something snapped inside him. He groaned, grinding harder against her, kissing her more fiercely, mapping the swell of her breasts.
His hands slid up her waist to cup her mounds, and she gasped at the sensitivity of her skin as he showered it with his attention. He pulled down her neckline until a nipple sprang free, and closed his lips around it.
Eleanor let out a muffled cry, and he made a warning noise against her skin.
“We ought to—” She broke off as he flicked his tongue against her nipple. “We ought to retreat to your chamber.”
“We ought,” he agreed, but he only pulled her flush against him till her back arched off the wall.
His length pressed against her thighs, and she ached to simply yank up her skirts and learn just how much more pleasure he could give her.
She moaned at the thought, but his hand quickly found the base of her throat and curled around it. Spencer slid his palm up her neck, tilting her head back so he could push his fingers into her mouth.
She wrapped her lips around his digits quickly, sucking on them as he kissed his way over her chest and back up to her neck. His other hand was already moving to the spot between her legs, his jaw clenched.
“I do not know how much longer I can restrain myself,” he grunted, his voice so low and deep that it sent shivers through her. “I want to—I want to claim you.”
