Page 50 of Daisy and the Duke
“Hell,” he muttered, pulling away a fraction.
“What’s wrong?”
“I am. I fooled myself into thinking that all I needed was a taste of you to keep me going. To maintain my sanity amid all the chaos right now. But a taste isn’t enough.” He moved so he could murmur in her ear, “God, Daisy, I want to ruin you.”
She sighed. Being ruined shouldn’t sound so delicious. “Then please do it.”
Tristan’s body reacted to that statement in the most primal way, and Daisy felt it through the layers of costumes between them. But then he stepped back, his expression tormented.
“Don’t tell me that till you know that’s what you really want.”
“Of course it is! Haven’t I just said so?”
“Yes, but you haven’t seen all of me.”
They were face-to-face when he began to disrobe, already tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. He straightened up to pull the shirt off.
Daisy swallowed as she beheld him half-naked for the first time. His right arm and the right side of his torso were marked with scarring, but that only highlighted his figure, all muscle and taut skin.
After a moment, Tristan slowly removed the rest of his clothing, allowing her to see him with nothing to obscure his appearance, which was so stunningly, magnificently male that Daisy could hardly breathe. She didn’t know that men got so…big when they were aroused. Her heart pattered with a newfound excitement when she saw him like this.My love, she thought wildly.We are alone. And together. As we should be.
“This is what I look like, Daisy,” he said, staring down at her, his expression tense, wary of her judgment. “You can leave this room now, and I’ll understand. Is this really how you want to remember things, losing your innocence to a monster?”
He was too focused on his wounds, she knew. It blocked him from seeing the truth. And yes, the scarring was not trivial, but to think that anyone would reject him for that—Daisy couldn’t imagine it. What did it matter, when she knew his real worth was that he was kind and compassionate and deeply invested in the lives of those around him?
She stepped closer and cautiously touched the scars along his right side, long jagged lines that were paler than the rest of his skin. “Do they hurt?”
“Sometimes. Not the scars themselves,” he clarified. “Underneath, there’s still pain, especially at night. But I’m talking about how I look, Daisy.”
“You look like you,” she said simply. “When you first spoke to me that day, I couldn’t even talk back, I was so entranced. I thought you were the handsomest man I’d ever seen.”
He gave a laugh. “Handsome? You’re joking.” He gestured to the scar on his face, the one that pulled at his right eye and his mouth, giving him that perpetually cynical expression. But Daisy had learned how to read his face, and she didn’t see cynicism there at all. She saw fear.
“Tristan, you need to stop worrying about how different you look from however you looked before. No one is perfect. And whenever you touch me, I am ready to be ruined.”
He blinked slowly, as if unable to believe her words for a moment. Then he kissed her roughly, and Daisy accepted every kiss and returned it with one just as passionate.
After they paused to catch their breath, his hands dropped to the few buttons and ties of her gown, gently starting to undo them. “You’ve been so elusive lately.”
“My stepmother did her best to keep me away. She forbid me to even attend tonight…but I disobeyed.”
“This is a very daring Daisy I’ve got in my arms. I’m proud of you.”
“There’s little to be proud of. I spent far too long being obedient and invisible. I have to live my own life too, because no one else is going to live it for me.”
“Lady Wildwood,” he said with a laugh. “You’re certainly growing wild.” Tristan helped her out of the gown, and with a few quick moves, her chemise followed, leaving her naked in front of him.
He regarded her with pure pleasure, and gently guided her to the bed, lowering her down onto the softness of the linens. He leaned over, one knee placed between her legs, his hand roaming her body, waking her up in ways she’d never dreamed of before.
“My God, Daisy. I think you might end up ruining me.”
“Why should it be ruin? Why can’t it just be us enjoying each other?” she whispered, reveling in the touch of his hands along her inner thighs. “All the books I read said it would be enjoyable, Tris, I swear…oh, yes.”
Daisy moaned when he found her most sensitive parts, and all she wanted was to feel more of that and feel it with Tristan. Hearing his own breaths coming quick and laced with passion, she smiled.
“What is it?” he asked softly, having noticed her expression.
“I think this is what happiness feels like,” she confessed.
