Page 13 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
He looked up at her, and she found herself wishing for more light so she could see the blue of his eyes. “You have a fine arch, exquisite toes. The lines are good, giving you a most attractive ankle.”
“Which you wish to photograph.”
“Yes.” His hand moved up, his other joined it, to circle her ankle and to ease up toward her calf.
If she allowed him to bed her, his hand would be traveling much higher, would travel all over her. Whatever had possessed her to think she could be comfortable with a man in a situation such as this? Grace had been correct, blast her. The intimacy was too much.
She jerked her foot free, stepped back. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I’m not so bold after all.”
He unfolded his body in a way that was at once predatory, yet unthreatening. “Is this your first time alone with a man?”
She released a small scoff. “It’s that obvious, is it?”
He chuckled low, but there was no joy in the sound. Rather, it seemed to echo with disappointment. “I should have guessed.” Then his gaze homed in on her, sharp and demanding. “Why?”
“Why is it obvious?”
“No, why are you looking to be deflowered in a place of sinners by a man you—” He scoffed. “I was going to say hardly know, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. Who are you, Lady V, that this would be your recourse?”
Confessing to Grace was one thing. To bare her soul, her frustrations to this man who could have any woman he wanted, was beyond the pale. “Because I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. No one faults men for exploring their desires. Why should women not have the same consideration?”
“Because they are so much better than us.”
“Yet the carnal act equalizes us, don’t you think?”
“You are a woman of remarkable notions.”
She released a quick breath of air in frustration. “You talk about how beautiful the body is and how we shouldn’t hide it away. Why should what passes between a man and a woman be shrouded in whispers and only talked about in dark corners? Why must women repress their natural urges?”
Oh, she should be quiet now. He was studying her like she’d said something both profound and stupid.
“Do you haveurges?” he asked quietly.
“Of course I do. And I don’t believe it’s wrong to have them. It’s why I’m here.”
He trailed the knuckle of his forefinger along her chin, and she almost removed the mask so he could outline the curve of her cheek.
“If I were any other man, I’d assuage your nervousness and have you on your back in a trice. Unfortunately for us both, I don’t bed virgins.”
Profound disappointment slammed into her. She should have taken comfort from the regret in his voice. Instead, she was somewhat cross. Was even her virginity to be held against her? “Why?”
“Because I prefer it hard and rough. I want women screaming from pleasure, not pain. A woman experiences discomfort the first time. You deserve someone who has a bit more patience. As a matter of fact, it should be someone who has a care for you, someone who would place your pleasures above his own. It should be someone you love; even if that love doesn’t last past the coupling, it should exist beforehand.”
“Your first time, did you love her?” She held up her hand to stay whatever response he might offer. “My apologies. It’s not my business.”
His eyes grew warm, his smile became one of fond remembrance. “I was madly in love with her, for an entire fortnight. A farmer’s daughter, with hair the color of wheat and eyes the shade of a new leaf in spring. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to please her. Nothing she wouldn’t do to please me. The moon was full the night she introduced me to the pleasures of a woman’s body. There was a new moon the night I discovered her in the hayloft doing the same for another fellow. But still, I can’t look at a full moon without thinking of long limbs, warm flesh, and the fragrance of raw sex. The first time happens only once, Lady V. Be a little in love with him.”
Dear God, she thought she might have fallen a bit in love right then. Just a little. She couldn’t help looking over at the bed with a touch of longing.
“Gra—” She stopped. No real names, nothing to give away her identity. “My friend tried to explain to me why coming here was such an awful idea. She wasn’t nearly as eloquent as you.”
“Hardly eloquent.” He returned to the sofa and begun tugging on his boots. “I’ll escort you to your carriage.”
“I took a hansom. Less chance of my adventures being discovered that way.”
He stood. “I’ll have my driver give you a lift home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
