Page 26 of Dare to Love a Duke
“That is something about you that I know quite well.” She looked downward, toward the hard column of his cock pressed against the front of his breeches, and her lips pursed with approval.
Holy hell, he might come from her gaze alone.
“Here is my final truth,” she said, her words simple and unadorned. “I think I might die from my need for you.”
And then, with a woman’s timeless smile, she whisked off her chemise. Save for her mask, she was nude.
If a man could literally immolate himself, surely he would do so. She’d said he was formed in the likeness of a god, but he was merely mortal, while she had the ripe figure of a harvest goddess, abundantly curved.
“I’m the luckiest bastard in England,” he muttered.
She reached up and unpinned her hair so that it fell in heavy black waves about her shoulders.
“No such thing as luck,” she said confidently. “We make choices, for good or for bad, but they’re ours to make.”
Perhaps if rational thought hadn’t evaporated when she’d stripped off her chemise, he could form a cogent and contemplative response. He might pick apart her words to consider what they meant, what they revealed. But that was beyond him at present.
She flicked her fingers toward his lower body.
“The breeches.” Her words were crisp, commanding. “Remove them.”
“I haven’t given you a truth,” he felt obliged to note.
“I want the truth of your body.”
Never had he taken off his breeches so speedily. One moment he was in them, and in the next, they were on the floor. By habit, he didn’t wear drawers, and, other than their masks, both he and Amina were naked.
Her sigh was long and appreciative. “Thatis a beautiful cock.”
“And I want to fuck you with it.” He lifted his hands. “But first—” He undid the ribbons of his mask and pulled his disguise away, letting her see his naked face. “My name is Tom.”
She hesitated, and a cool trickle of fear ran down the back of his neck. He’d never been as exposed as he was at that moment. He was no stranger to nudity, but clothing only hid the body. With the removal of his mask, and the giving of his name, he opened himself to her. Yet she might not do the same. He would have reached out, only to have her withdraw, leaving him bared and undefended.
A moment later, she followed suit, removing her mask.
His breath caught. She had a face of arresting beauty, with dark slashing eyebrows and sculpted cheekbones that should have been elegant but instead made her a creature of carnal, earthy splendor. He could write sonnets to her bold, assertive nose, and the lushness of her lips.
“My name,” she said firmly, letting her mask fall from her fingers, “is Lucia. And I will not wait a moment longer. I want younow.”
Chapter 7
Never had Lucia been this unprotected, so vulnerable—not with a lover.
Perhaps it had been a grave error to play this game with him, trading truths for clothing. He was fully human now, not just a fantasy. He hurt, and yearned, and possessed an entire history. Her buccaneer was a man named Tom.
And she wanted him. If anything with this exchange, her desire had grown, until she felt her pulse between her legs like a thudding drum, her breasts tight and sensitive.
This was not part of her plan. It should have been simple desire, with her taking refuge in uncomplicated lust. Yet with just a few words from him, she felt a piece of the scales around her heart fall away, welcoming him in.
Turning back was impossible. Her hunger for him had grown too large and couldn’t be locked back in its cage. The beast was loose, and it demanded Tom. All she could do now was follow in its wake and pray that, when it was time to bid him farewell, she might withstand the loss.
He looked at her now with fierce intensity, his gaze afire, his beautiful body taut, his cock thick and ready.
She still had some supremacy—because she knew that if she asked anything of him now, he’d obey her.
She moved away from him and walked on legs that felt sleek and powerful to the foot of the bed, where she turned and faced him. He took purposeful strides toward her, until their bodies were snug. Her sensitive flesh drank in the sensation of him, from the press of the hair on his chest against her breasts, to the length of his rigid thighs along her own. His hands cupped her arse while she looped her arms around his neck. His cock rose up in a hard, delicious curve that lay snug against her belly.
Without his mask, his face was even more handsome. She followed the angled line of his jaw to his expressive mouth, up higher to his hawkish nose. The vivid hue of his eyes was a jolt of clear color. His eyebrows were heavy and dark, eloquent, and they lowered into a look of almost stern severity as he gazed at her.
