Page 51 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
I’m kissing Adam.
Of all the things she thought she’d ever do, this never even reached her list! It was so… so… unexpected it almost felt as though she had entered a dream. Were all kisses like this? This deep? This exploratory? The man kissed her as though tasting her, as though he had all the time in the world to learn the shape of her mouth.
Charlene’s head swirled with sensation. She felt everything in sharp relief—the pull of his lips, the slight intake of his breath, the charge from where they touched. Her pulse raced, her body humming with some unfamiliar, thrilling spark that made her toes curl. It was a collision of want and recklessness, a breathless unraveling that left no room for sense or second thoughts.
No room for doubt.
Only want.
Her hands wound around his neck, drew to his chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his coat. The wool was smooth under her touch, and she gripped it, pulling him closer. And she realized, with no small shock, just how much she didn’t want this to end.
And just like that, he broke the kiss.
He eased back, enough to breathe, her eyes fluttering open. Her lips felt flushed, tingling from his kiss, her senses racing to catch up.
“Charlene,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost hoarse. Her name on his lips sent a shiver skimming down her spine. “I don’t know what happened, but I did send you a note before I left. I don’t know why it didn’t reach you.”
He did? She could tell he wasn’t lying. Tension seeped from her body. So, he had sent a note but it hadn’t reached her? She shouldn’t be feeling so relieved, but she was. She couldn’t even summon words—none seemed adequate. Instead, her lips curved faintly, and her fingers stayed curled against his coat. Whatever this was, whatever came next, she only knew one thing.
She didn’t want it to stop.
Which was exactly why it had to.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning,Charlene had no appetite. Nor thirst. She stared at the cup and saucer on the small table in her parlor.
The tea had cooled in Charlene’s cup, though she held it steady, vainly pretending to sip. Instead, she stared into the soft amber liquid, her mind tangled and heavy. The pressure of her teacup’s delicate handle reassured her fingers, but her thoughts were far from orderly.
The kiss.
She could still feel it, could still summon the faint warmth of his lips against hers.
Adam Cross.
She barely needed to close her eyes to remember how he’d looked at her, how the world had gone achingly quiet in that single moment despite the blasting cracks of the fireworks outside. It was the light inside her chest that he’d kindled, and it brightened her every thought—even though it shouldn’t.
Because he was a Cross, of course.
No, Char, rein your nerves in, it couldn’t have been that good a kiss.
And yet, it was.
“Charlene. Did you hear me?” Ashley broke through her thoughts.
“Yes, yes.” Charlene blinked and looked up.
Ashley sighed and set her cup down with an air of exasperation. She leaned forward, the light catching the small emerald ring on her left hand—Thomas’s most recent token of affection. “Honestly, my dear, you’ve been away in your thoughts since you arrived. I was simply asking what on earth has you so distracted?”
“She’s been distracted since she walked in.” Maddie arched one brow, her eyes faintly narrowed. “It’s quite the sight to witness, since you are usually so clear-headed.”
Charlene sighed. Both women watched her expectantly, and Charlene realized there would be no slipping past their inquisition today. “If you must know, I… kissed him,” she said bluntly. Her hand lifted to her mouth as if she could catch the memory of the kiss.
Ashley’s face split into a wide, delighted grin, and she clapped her hands softly, barely managing to contain herself. “Oh, that’s utterly smashing! I told you there was something between you and that duke of yours.”
“He’s not mine,” Charlene snapped, her face heating.
Maddie’s lips pressed thin. “You kissed him?” Her voice dropped low, as though the very notion might summon scandal to the room like a ghostly specter. “How improper. What could have possessed you to allow such a thing?”
