Page 156 of The Good Duke
Persephone stared at him; the earlier sparkle of joy had since been replaced with concern. God, why did he continue to fail her time and time again?
Simon made himself turn his lips up into a half-grin.
“I was just thinking,” he murmured.
Persephone stared expectantly at him.
“And?” she gently prodded, with the same tender consternation.
Alas, she’d never be content and only be intrigued by that.
“I was thinking of how happy you were at the museum,” he said quietly, roving his gaze over the elegant lines of her cheekbones, her well-defined jawline, her refined chin. “And how I want to freeze that moment in time, have it painted as a picture so I can carry it with me always and remember you as you were.”
Her lips quivered and then formed a perfect, surprised little move. “Oh,” she whispered.
Heat stung Simon’s neck and climbed to his cheeks. Suddenly, feeling exposed, he tugged at his cravat.
God, say something. Say anything. Make a flippant remark and say you were jesting.
And yet he couldn’t protect himself at Persephone’s expense. In the course of their lives, he’d already done that too many times. She deserved better—in every way.
Invariably, Simon found himself saved from formulating a response to her stunned little reaction. The carriage rocked to a slow, graceful stop.
Simon sent up a quick thanks to the Lord above.
He made a clearing sound with his throat. “Uh, y-yes,” he said unsteadily. “So glad.”
So glad?
Egad.
Persephone gave him a peculiar look.
Simon took a slow, steadying breath and tried again.
“That is to say,” he spoke quietly, “I wasso gladto see how happy you were on your visit to the museum. I would have hated it, Seph, were you to have longed for that experience, only to find yourself disappointed.”
“Never,” she said in a fierce avowal that emerged thick. A sheen glazed her eyes. “It was even more wondrous than I could have ever imagined, Simon.”
Their gazes locked. The ensuing silence, still within the conveyance, grew charged.
Of its own volition, Simon’s focus slipped to her lush mouth.
Oh, God, I am lost.
I want her in every way.
And like the selfish, rotted bastard he was deep inside, he wanted her now. He wanted to throw her skirts up, and bury himself between her legs, and make her scream her surrender for all the world to hear.
As if she’d sensed his wicked thoughts, and they aligned with her very own, Persephone’s endlessly long eyelashes grew heavy looking.
Simon balled his hands into tight fists and fought the battle raging inside of him—the primitive, savage beast within him that wanted nothing more than to fuck her and the part of his soul that loved her so much he didn’t want to make any part about this day about his baser yearnings.
The raw desire in Persephone’s beautiful brown eyes, and the way she parted her lips and leaned closer, proved she hungered for the former.
In the end, the beast won.
With a low growl rumbling in his chest, even as Simon reached for her, Persephone strained toward him.
