Page 88 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard with ostentation.
He watched her from the doorway. She worked pins from her hair as she explored, running her fingers along the statue of the Egyptian goddess Hathor. In front of the medieval tapestry, she tilted her head to take in the details. The Chinese vase atop a tall carved cherrywood stand seemed to fascinate her, and she reached out and then pulled back as if afraid to topple it.
“You may touch anything you like.” His body responded the minute the words were out, because there were several aching parts of him craving her touch.
She smiled at his words and lifted onto her toes to stroke her hands along the fronds of the potted palm in the corner.
Mercy, how he wanted those hands on him.
“It’s very—”
“Overdone. A mishmash. You see what I do when left to my own devices. I need someone with better taste in decoration to advise me.”
Her. He realized all at once that he wanted Bella to be the one to take the room and make it her own. Theirs. The thought made a shiver slide down his spine.
She wouldn’t ever be his that way. There would be no wedding. This wasn’t ever going to be their home.
After circling the room, she came to stand in front of him. “I love it. There’s beauty and history in every corner, and you have excellent taste.”
Before he could offer any reply, she turned her back to him.
“Undo my buttons?” With one hand, she swept her hair off of her neck. The other came down on his thigh as she pressed her backside against his groin.
Rhys inhaled sharply but he didn’t want her to stop.
“You did say I could touch whatever I want.”
“Oh, you can.” He made quick work of her buttons and spread the edges of her gown to run his hands down her back.
She let out a little ah of pleasure and then shifted her hand. With a gentle, tentative touch, she drew her fingers down the length of him, shaping her hand around him.
He told himself to let her explore, but he couldn’t stop from bucking against her when she stroked her hand up and then down again.
“That feels perfect but—”
“I know,” she whispered before letting him go.
He bent and kissed her shoulder, swept her chemise aside, and kissed the side of her neck. Without intending to, he seemed to have found a ticklish spot.
She stepped out of his arms and headed for the bed, working at the clasps of her corset on the way. By the time she reached the dais on which the bed stood, she’d shed her corset, and as she headed toward the bed, she stepped out of her petticoat.
Like a temptress, she watched him while she tugged at the single ribbon closure of her chemise and then let the garment fall from her shoulders.
Desire hit him like the tide at Margate, sneaking in and threatening to pull him under. There was pure physical need to have her body under his, over his, to be inside her. But there was more with Bella. Always more. Tenderness. Affection.
Love.
Allowing himself to acknowledge the feeling made his heart thrash with fear.
Biting her lip, she loosed the ribbon on her drawers and pulled them wide as if to let them fall too but she didn’t let go of the fabric. She watched him and inched the fabric down as if to tease him.
He approached and stood below her. With Bella on the raised platform, they were almost equal in height. He stroked a hand along her stomach, then up between her breasts. She shivered and her perfect nipples pebbled under his fingertips. He bent to take one into his mouth. Bella stroked her hand through his hair, pulling him close.
“Rhys,” she said, almost as a plea.
He lifted his head, then bent to taste her again, treating the other nipple to the same languorous licks and suckling. Sliding his hand around her waist, he pushed at the fabric of her drawers until he could cup her backside in his hands and the garment slid down her legs.
“You’re the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
