Page 81 of Married to the Icy Duke
“No,” she breathed. “I … I would not.”
He kissed her at once, his lips rough and warm against hers. Charlotte clutched at his broad shoulders, feeling rather like she was drowning. As if she’d plunged through the clouds and found herself in deep, icy water, with no sign of land.
His arms looped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Could he feel her heart thumping against her chest? Surely he could.
Isaac broke the kiss, but gave her no room to breathe. Before she knew what was going on, he lifted her smoothly off her feet, placing her squarely on the counter. She wobbled backwards a little, thumping against the wall. In an instant, Isaac’s arms were around her waist again, hauling her forward. He leaned against her, resting one palm on the counter beside her hip.
“You have driven me mad, you know,” he breathed, bringing his nose to within inches of hers. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. “You are on my mind, always.”
There was no time for her to respond, because he was kissing her again. His warm hand landed on her knee, and she shivered. Lifting her fine dress, Isaac slid his palm underneath her petticoats without ado, fingers dancing upwards. Charlotte found herself parting her thighs at once, reflexively, and felt Isaac chuckle against her skin.
“Eager,” he breathed. Then his fingertips stroked against the join of her legs, and Charlotte gasped aloud, tilting back her head.
The moment lasted only a matter of seconds. He stroked her once, twice, three times, then pulled back.
Charlotte jolted faintly, eyes flinging open. When had she closed them? It didn’t matter.
Isaac pressed a last kiss to her lips, then straightened up entirely. Charlotte had no time to think of her situation—leaning back, dress unruffled, legs parted in a most shocking manner—before he leaned down, pushing up her skirts further.
He pressed a kiss against the side of her knee, and goosebumps crawled all over Charlotte’s skin.
Surely he was not going to … wasn’t … Charlotte was not sure she could formulate words, even if she tried. Isaac trailed kisses upwards, following the inner curve of her thigh.
When he put his lips against the core of her, Charlotte cried out in surprise, shocks of pleasure shooting through her. Beforeshe knew what she was doing, she had pushed her hand down, threading her fingers through his hair.
His tongue slid against her in a confident and practiced way. The peak of her pleasure approached in bursts and starts, rushing her onwards. Charlotte sagged further against the wall, struggling for breath. He curled one hand around her thigh, fingers digging in and providing a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure building inside her.
She felt, rather than saw, his other hand slide against her, just below where his tongue pressed against her skin. He broke off for an instant, and Charlotte truly thought that she might die.
“You seem fond of this, my dear,” he remarked, as lightly as if he were talking about theweather, of all things. If Charlotte could have summoned her breath, she would have complained.
He kissed the curve of her thigh, just below the join of her legs, and his fingers slipped against her core once more, his forefinger moving inside her. It was a strange sensation, but before Charlotte could adjust, he replaced his mouth against her, moving with confidence once more, and the pleasure redoubled, so quickly she saw stars.
When her climax came, Charlotte’s fingers reflexively tightened in his hair, her whole body breaking out into shivers.
She felt as though she were floating, clouds passing her by. Isaac pulled back, his eye glinting in the candlelight, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. While she was still fighting tocatch her breath, he dived forward, fitting his lips against hers. He tasted ever so strange, and it occurred to her, belatedly, that she was tasting herself.
Charlotte could not have managed words, even if she’d had breath. Isaac pulled back, and the light was too bad for her to read his face. Suddenly, she wished that she had more light.
“Now you are truly a duchess indeed,” he murmured.
CHAPTER 24
Thump.
Thump.
Thu-Thump.
Thump.
Charlotte opened her eyes groggily. Her forehead was inches away from a curtainless window pane, through which sunlight was streaming merrily in.
Her first thought was simple.
Did I drink too much champagne last night?
The second thought was more direct.
