Page 53 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
“Hold the ladder steady?” She bit her lip when she looked back at him.
Rhys’s gaze fixed on the place where her teeth sank into the soft, plump flesh of her lower lip and therogue thought came that he wanted to kiss her right on that spot.
“Of course.” Once again, he gripped the frame of the rolling ladder, but his fingers were an inch from the hem of her gown, and he wanted to touch her again. It was as if that brief contact of his hand on her body had unleashed every carnal impulse. He stifled the urge to slip his hand beneath her skirt and touch her stockinged leg. Or better yet, slip her stockings down and feel her flesh against his.
It wasn’t as if he’d never seen her bare legs. They’d swam together in the mill pond many times. But this was different. They were different now, and his reactions to her were precisely what he should not be feeling. He wasn’t the man she deserved.
“You’ve got me?” She sounded nervous.
All of his protective impulses welled up to dispel his lecherous thoughts.
“I won’t let you fall.”
She paused, as if contemplating that claim, and then edged an inch closer to the book, stretching and letting out a little groan of effort.
“I have it,” she cried triumphantly. This time she did and the volume slid free. She grasped it firmly to her chest and started to descend, but her boot caught in the hem of her skirt and she lost her balance.
“Careful.”
She tried to turn and free herself but leaned too far. Rhys reached up to catch her.
“Rhys.” Eyes wide, hands out to break her fall, Belladropped the book at his toes and then came tumbling down.
Her body slammed into his and he landed on his back, his arms wrapped around her as she settled on top of him. She immediately scrambled to get up, her hands pressed to his chest, legs straddling his waist. When she squirmed against his groin to find her balance, Rhys instinctively grasped her hips.
She stilled. Breathing hard, she stared at him. She was still trembling from the shock of the fall.
“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.
Rather than answer, she gripped his shirtfront where her hand was pressed to his chest.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Rhys glanced down to see if her ankle was twisted or there was some other evidence of injury.
Her hand came up and she nudged his chin to bring his gaze back to hers.
If the press of her body against him hadn’t already aroused him, the intensity in her gaze would have. She looked at him the way he’d been watching her the last few days. Hungrily. Heatedly.
“I’m not the girl I used to be,” she said on a breathy whisper.
It seemed an odd time for her to tell him what was already apparent every time he was in her company but he nodded his agreement.
Yet she still didn’t move. She remained astride him, one hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, the other pressed to his chest. The weight and heat of her feltdelicious. So good he had the wayward notion of bucking up to get her closer.
“What is it?” If she remained on top of him, she’d soon know exactly the direction of his thoughts. Was he misreading the look in her eyes for desire? He was more than prepared to remain pressed against her all day, but he knew the crinkle in her brow meant there was something she wished to say. “Tell me, Bella. What’s wrong?”
Rather than speak, she acted. Her finger came down on his lower lip and that single touch sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine.
She was so soft, so warm. And she wanted him. There was nothing hidden in those expressive eyes of hers now. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this with her. But he did want her, and he’d wished for her to look at him just like this for longer than he’d ever let himself admit.
He tightened his hold on her hips, but he wasn’t certain if he was drawing her closer or holding her at bay.
This was Bella. Sweet, brilliant, proper Bella, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than a man who’d devoted himself to nothing but self-indulgence for the last half decade.
She pulled back as if she too had come to her senses. He felt a strange brew of frustration and relief.
He shifted to help her back onto her feet, but instead of getting up she bent closer. She slid her hands up his chest and planted one on the carpet next to his cheek.
Then slowly, shockingly, she lowered her head andbrushed her lips against his. Not quite a kiss, more like an experiment. One hot breathy too-quick press of her mouth and she pulled back, studying his lips as if they were one of her riddles to be solved. She lifted her hand and traced the outline of his mouth with the soft pad of her finger.
