Page 24 of Dukes Are Forever
"You give a fair approximation of it."
"I despised your tactics in bringing me to heel." He considered her. "You've always been beautiful. I state it as a matter of fact, not flattery. And... you did save my life when I was shot."
It was the first time he'd ever truly touched his wife.
Blue bloods could heal from practically anything, but when Balfour put a mind-controlling device inside Gemma and she'd shot him, he'd been bleeding so badly he couldn't pursue her when she went after the queen.
Adele—of all people—had happened upon him and given him her blood, though the first he'd known of it had been when he came out of the ravening rush of the craving and realized he was clasped between his wife's thighs. His mouth had been on her throat, the coppery taste of her blood wetting his tongue, and his hand had been working its way up her thigh.
He had very nearly deflowered his wife on the floor of the Ivory Tower.
"It's not as though you were actually dying, Malloryn." Adele rolled her eyes, but he caught the faint stain of pink that swept her cheeks. "You made certain I was aware of that. Giving you blood helped accelerate your healing, but it didn't save your life."
"Did I say that?"
"You did."
"Then I was an inconsiderate fool."
Green eyes narrowed and she pressed a hand to his chest, stepping forward until they were barely inches apart. "What are you up to?"
His gaze fell to her lips. Those soft, rosy lips. He'd never tasted them. It was easier to play the part of besotted lover than he'd have imagined. "As I stated, I need an heir."
"Then throw me down on the bed and have your way with me. I believe that is how it works, does it not? And yet, you're actually attempting to"—for a second her facade slipped, impregnable insouciance giving way to confusion—"seduce me."
"You don't trust a gentle touch."
"I don't trustyourgentle touch."
And yet, she wanted it. He could read it in the softening of her body and the way she leaned into him—even as she leashed her body's physical needs. To win her over, he would need to enrapture that cool, rational mind too—because she'd seen right through his physical flirtations.
Clever girl.
"You're right. I have no need to make such efforts." Malloryn's lashes half-shuttered his eyes. "And yet, my conscience dictates I make them. I am not the sort of man whothrowsa woman down on his bed and simply takes what I want, like some sort of barbarian. I am the Duke of Malloryn."
"Ah, arrogance." Adele tipped her chin defiantly. "Now that I can believe. I would hardly call it conscience. You don't have one."
Despite himself, a smile brewed. "Be careful, my dear. For if that statement was true, you would be in a great deal of trouble right now."
"What would you do to me?" Adele bit her lip. "Chastiseme?"
He stared at her.Was she...?She was. She was daring him. Practically flirting, if one didn't notice the calculating gleam in his eyes.
Malloryn leaned closer, until their breath mingled. "Like I said, I'm hardly a barbarian. I could think of other ways to make you rue your words."
Adele's gloved hands came to rest upon his coat. "I think every blue blood is part barbarian deep inside." Those hands slid lower, pausing over the flat ripple of his abdomen. She looked up, dark lashes fanning across her cheeks as her voice softened. "You all call it your primal side. Your craving. Your hunger. And you leash it, and think it obeys you. But it's still there, Malloryn." A thumb stroked inside his coat, inside his waistcoat. "I wonder what it's like when you let it off the leash. All that civilization stripped away from you. Your raw desires given sway. I wonder.... What would he be like?"
Good lord, she was actually attempting to turn the tables on him.
He felt that touch stroke lower, as if her silken-gloved hands actually curled around the thickening length of his cock. The words, the touch, the glance—all designed to intrigue and inflame.
Adele Cavill, you little devil.
If he'd been a lesser man, she'd be wrapping him around her little finger.
"You don't want to meet that side of me," he whispered back. "He doesn't play nice."
"Doesn't he?" She took a step back, her expression alight in a way he'd never seen before. "Maybe I don't want him to play nice. Maybe... the thought of unearthing the true Duke of Malloryn intrigues me. No more masks between us. No more twisted words. No more games. It would be interesting. And I think I could trusthimmore."
