Page 59 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“I know.” He jerked her closer, his hand sliding to the small of her back, so she was pressed up against him. “So, tell me to stop, Isobel. Tell me that you dislike the way I touch you, and I won’t do it again.” He moved his hand to her loosened hair, enjoying the soft waves against his fingers. “Now tell me plainly. Were you avoiding me?”
“Yes.”
That was a spark to the gunpowder of his irritation, and he jerked her face to his, kissing her roughly.
He expected her to push him away, perhaps to tell him that she did not want or desire his attentions, and that he was bestowing them unwillingly.
But she did not tell him that.
Her mouth opened in a gasp as she yielding to him, and her hands moved to his lapels, holding them firmly, tugging him still closer as he laid an assault on her mouth. Broached her lips withhis tongue. They did battle as they kissed, all lips and teeth and hot breath.
He wanted her. Desperately.
And how he wanted her—it was as though he had been waiting his whole life for this. Abstaining in the hopes of attaining this final moment.
His cock pressed against his breeches as he kissed her more deeply, sliding his fingers into the soft silk of her hair. She moved against him, her breath ragged in her throat, making tiny mewling sounds at the feel of his hardness against her. Just as she had before, she seemed to want to press it against her center.
Just as before, he wanted the same. She had been so delightfully wet the last time, and it had been a delight to sink his fingers inside her.
Now, the urge to do it again became a need.
He walked her backward until her knees encountered the side of the bed.
“I want you,” he said, drawing back, furious that he could not restrain himself, furious at himself for wanting a lady he had never intended to marry in the first place. “And I want this.”
“Yes,” she whispered back, and he had just enough time to process the fact she had not used the Scottishayebefore she was kissing him now, just as roughly as he’d kissed her.
And any hesitation vanished from his limbs. His urgency multiplied. His fingers found the rope of her robe and pulled, loosening it. Underneath, her nightgown was almost sheer, revealing the pointed tips of her nipples. He could almost trace the pattern of her freckles descending down her chest through the material.
She was a present, perfectly packaged for him. The last time they’d been together, he’d removed none of her clothes, seeing nothing but the flash of creamy thighs as she’d parted them for him. He’d operated more by feel than by sight, the room had been so dim.
Now, he abandoned her by the bed and moved to the candles, lighting more and bringing them closer to the bed. He would see everything.
“Lie on your back,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Let me see you.”
Her eyes flicked to his, hesitant for just a second. He could practically see her will fighting his, her desire to rebel tucked against her other, more base desires. And he could see the moment she capitulated in her eyes, the way they darkened and fell before she crawled across the bed, lying on her back and letting her legs fall open.
He perched on the end of the bed. This control—he needed it, to establish his dominance over her. She was his wife. And more than that, there was a burning in him to make her his, to make her submit utterly to him.
He wanted to make herwantthat.
“Now pull up your chemise. Let me see what lies under there.” His voice was more of a growl, more smoke than words.
Her hands moved to her chemise, drawing it up her thighs to reveal the thatch of hair that lay between them. Then, as she shifted, the slick flesh between. Already wet, shining in the candlelight.
He cupped himself, squeezing at the jagged rush of desire. “Good,” he told her. “Show yourself to me.”
“For what purpose?” Her voice came out breathy—he wanted her always to sound that way.
“So, I can look at you.”
“Ye’re so far away.”
He grinned at her. This was what he had wanted—her squirming and wanting, desperate for his touch. “What do you want, my little fairy?”
She gritted her teeth. “I think ye know.”
“I think I want you to tell me.”
