Page 16 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
"Liar." He nipped at her lower lip, soothing it with his tongue. "Your whole body just melted against mine. There's no shame in it, Catherine. In wanting to please, to be praised. It's rather perfect, actually."
"Why?"
"Because I very much enjoy being pleased."
She should have been offended by his arrogance. Instead, she found herself intrigued. "And if I please you?"
"Then I reward you," he said simply. "With pleasure you've never imagined."
"That's rather confident."
"It's a promise." He stepped back suddenly, leaving her bereft. "But first, you need to be certain. No brandy clouding your judgment, no heat of the moment. Look at me, Catherine."
She did, meeting those storm-grey eyes.
"If you come to my room—my bed—there's no going back. Tomorrow you'll leave here no longer a maiden. Your future husband, whoever he might be, will know. Can you live with that?"
Catherine thought of Sir Reginald, with his sweaty hands and butterfly lectures. Of a lifetime of duty and disappointment. Of never knowing passion or choice or freedom.
"My future husband," she said clearly, "...curse my future husband. Along with my mother's expectations and society's rules and every other chain they've tried to wrap around me. For once in my life, I want to choose. And I choose you."
Something fierce flashed in his eyes. "Then come here."
She went without hesitation, and this time when he kissed her, there was nothing held back. His hands roamed her body through the silk of her wrapper, learning her curves, making her gasp and arch against him. When his mouth moved to her throat, she thought she might die from the pleasure of it.
"So responsive," he murmured against her skin. "So perfect. Do you have any idea how much I wanted this? From the moment you walked into this inn, dripping wet and furious, all I could think about was how you'd look spread across my bed."
"James," she gasped, scandalized and aroused in equal measure.
"Shocking you, am I?" His teeth grazed her pulse point. "Just wait, sweetheart. I'm going to do things to you that would make you blush just to hear described."
"Tell me."
He pulled back to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "Eager little thing, aren't you?"
"You said you liked eager."
"I did. I do." His hands went to the tie of her wrapper. "May I?"
She nodded, watching his face as he slowly pulled the silk loose. The wrapper fell open, revealing her nightgown beneath—white cotton, modest, nothing like the silk nightgowns married women wore. But from the heat in his eyes, she might have been wearing nothing at all.
"Beautiful," he breathed, his hands skimming over her shoulders, pushing the wrapper off entirely. It pooled at her feet in a whisper of silk. "Absolutely beautiful."
"It's just a nightgown."
"It's you in a nightgown. That makes all the difference." His hands went to her waist, pulling her back against him. "Can you feel what you do to me?"
She could. Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel the hard press of his arousal against her stomach. It should have frightened her—she knew enough about the marriage act to understand what that meant. Instead, it thrilled her.
"I want to see you too," she said, surprising herself with her boldness.
"Do you now?" He smiled, stepping back. "Then undress me."
Her hands shook slightly as she reached for his waistcoat buttons. "I don't... I've never..."
"I know." His voice gentled. "Take your time. We have all night."
She focused on the buttons, trying not to think too hard about what she was doing. The waistcoat came off, revealing the white shirt beneath. She could see the shadow of chest hair through the fine linen, the broad expanse of his chest rising and falling with each breath.
