Page 73 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“So wet,” Gerard groaned. “You’re so ready for me, Mina.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and a shiver ran through her at the sound of her name whispered against her skin. Her body responded instinctively, arching slightly into his touch, every nerve alight. The gentle circle of his thumb around her nub sent sparks through her, a delicious ache pooling low and deep, coiling tighter with each pass.
“Please.”
Who knew that she could sound so helpless?
Gerard growled against her lips as his fingers continued sliding in and out of her. He seemed to know her body, his thumb brushing over her nub over and over.
“Gerard! Oh, that—that I?—”
For the first time, Wilhelmina was utterly speechless. The woman who wrote a column to survive could not form a word.
“Let go,” Gerard crooned, nipping her neck. “Do it for me, Mina.”
It was hard to think now, with his fingers pumping steadily inside her. Each stroke was deliberate, setting her body alight.
Wilhelmina was gasping for breath now, her moans mingling with his rough grunts. He was giving it to her—pleasure—and he seemed to find pleasure in it, too.
His mouth seemed to look for something to latch on, drifting lower to the swell of her breast. He pulled down the neckline of her dress and closed his lips around her nipple. His fingers brushed a sensitive spot inside her, and he sucked on her harder.
Wilhelmina could not escape the pleasure. Her vision blurred, and she shattered, her body arching helplessly into his hand and mouth. The waves seemed endless, carrying her past all sense until she collapsed against him, trembling.
Gerard held her firmly through it, his breathing harsh, his lips still pressed to her skin as though to anchor her.
When at last her shudders subsided, he withdrew his hand and straightened his coat with the sort of composure she could not imagine mustering at that moment. His gaze lingered on her, dark and unreadable.
Wilhelmina opened her mouth, but words refused to form.
“We should go home,” Gerard murmured, his voice husky with restraint.
All she could do was nod, still dazed.
The rest passed in a blur. Somehow, they left the ballroom, and she was helped into the carriage. Gerard kept close, his presence filling every corner, but there was no more touch, no more whispered words. The silence seemed louder than the music they had left behind.
By the time they reached Talleystone House, her heart was hammering again, though from uncertainty rather than passion.
Gerard led her down the hall, his stride purposeful. At her chamber door, he stopped.
“Goodnight, Duchess,” he said, his tone not cold but too controlled, too careful. Something lingered behind it, something she could not reach.
Wilhelmina managed a faint smile, but when he turned away, confusion gripped her.
Why did he feel both near and distant at once? Why had he touched her so intimately, only to leave her at her door as though nothing had changed?
She lingered a moment before slipping inside and pressing her back against the door.
Her lips still burned from the memory of his kiss, and her body still hummed with the echo of his touch.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Higher! It must look like a real fort. It must be tall, and the guards will not let anyone in unless they know the watchword,” Hector declared with the gravity of a commander.
Rainy days were often dreary in Talleystone House. The world outside lay muted, the sky heavy with gray, and the gardens draped in pale green gloom. Yet, in the house, life had taken on a brightness that Gerard could not deny.
His son seemed happier of late. He could see it in the sparkle in Hector’s eyes, in the way his laughter rang more freely. The boy thrived beneath Wilhelmina’s attention. She gave him her time and patience as if they were inexhaustible.
Gerard stood in the doorway, careful not to disturb them. Hector was perched precariously on a chair, attempting to fasten another blanket to the growing structure. The fort was sprawlingalready—pillows stacked, chairs draped with sheets to form walls and gates.
