Page 53 of Married to the Icy Duke
She lifted her chin, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she was standing with only a thin sheet covering her modesty. A very wet thin sheet.
“And when we are married,” Charlotte said firmly, “he will be my nephew too. I mean it, Isaac. I will not follow your rules in this matter.”
He was so close now that his knees brushed the rim of the bath. Charlotte could have reached out and touched him, but of course, she kept her sopping limbs to herself. She concentrated on breathing evenly, on appearing cool and composed, and most importantly of all, on holding his gaze.
There was heat and hunger in his eyes. Despite his best efforts, his gaze broke away first, traveling down the length of her sheet-clad form and back again.
Charlotte felt warmth rush to her cheeks, and that familiar ache of wanting surged in the pit of her stomach, pooling betweenher legs. In an effort to control herself, she pressed her thighs together in the hopes of making the feeling go away.
Isaac breathed in through his nose. “Well, if you do not intend to follow my rules, I shall not trouble myself to follow yours. Why should I? I think perhaps youwantme to break your rules, Charlotte.”
She blinked rapidly. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Isaac leaned back a little, his gaze suddenly languid, his eyes half-lidded.
“I think you know exactly what I mean. Rules are such flimsy things, I suppose.”
She lifted her chin again. “I think I would like you to leave now.”
He reached out, slowly as if taming a skittish deer, and his knuckles gently brushed the curve of her cheek. The touch was barely there, light as a feather, but it sent heat flushing through Charlotte’s body even so.
“You think you would like that, do you?” he whispered softly. “Say it, then.”
Charlotte opened her mouth, entirely sure that she was going to tell him to getoutof her washroom and to never, ever barge into her private rooms in such a manner again.
She really had intended to tell him to leave.
Instead, when Charlotte opened her mouth, nothing at all came out. Not a word. Not a whisper.
A slow, wicked smile spread over Isaac’s face.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured softly. Then he leaned in, in quite a leisurely manner, and pressed his lips against hers.
Charlotte clutched at the front of her sheet, desperate not to let it fall. Every inch of her body felt as though it were on fire. When she felt his hand cup her hip, deliciously warm and heavy through the sheet, she felt somethingtwanginside her, like a harp string. The tip of his tongue traced out the seam of her lips, but when Charlotte inched her lips apart to allow him entry, he pulled away.
She gasped, the noise loud in the quiet room, and blinked up at him, confused.
“I don’t understand,” she blurted out.
His eyes were shadowed, and Charlotte seemed to have trouble thinking of anything beyond the desire pulsing through her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him. Just for an instant, she felt something warm and hard pressing against her, but before she could think twice about it, he angled his hips away with a low, wry chuckle.
“We wouldn’t want this to end before it begins, would we?” he whispered.
Charlotte frankly had no idea what he meant, but before she could ask, he reached down and grasped the wet hem of her drying sheet, sliding his hand underneath.
Questing fingertips danced over the warm, damp skin of her thighs, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. His other arm still around her waist, Isaac pulled her close, pressing his lips against the side of her neck. She could have sworn that she felt a pinprick of teeth there, so fleeting that she might have imagined it. His fingers danced upwards, up and up towards the join of her legs.
Is he going to touch methere?Charlotte thought dizzily. There was no question about whether this was something a proper lady would allow. She was pointedly not going to consider that question, not even for an instant.
“When I am finished with you,” Isaac murmured, his voice a low growl coming from the depths of his chest, “you will want to do everything I say.”
“I’ll never obey you,” Charlotte snapped back, with more determination than she had thought herself capable of. “Let that be made clear.”
He chuckled, a warm sensation against her neck.
“No touching, indeed,” he whispered. At that moment, his knuckle brushed the part between Charlotte’s legs, sending a fiery jolt through her body. He gave her no time to recover or to adjust to the new sensation, instead beginning to slide his fingers up and down her silken folds, a languid rhythm which seemed to spark something inside her, peaking higher and higher.
Still grasping her drying sheet with one hand—Charlotte was not entirely sure why the drying sheet was so important to her modesty at this point, only that she did not want to realize it—she flung her other arm around his shoulders to steady herself. Already, her legs were threatening to buckle.
