Page 27 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
He dragged his mouth along her throat, not missing how she dropped her head back to give him more access. He nipped at her collarbone, dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat before trailing his mouth over the upper swells of her plump breasts.
Peeling the silk down, he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled. She whimpered. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He skimmed his hand along her hip, her thigh, lower still until he reached the hem of her skirt, then he slipped beneath silk and satin, skirts and petticoats, gliding his hand over stocking until he finally reached the heaven of her skin. Silky smooth. Hot, damp. Higher yet, his fingers parting material until he reached curls and her simmering core. Wet, so wet, so hot. Heated honey.
She gasped, but not with indignation. With wonder. Her wide eyes met his, her lips formed a small circle. She panted. Short breaths. She clutched his shoulders as though she might fly through the window without purchase.
He stroked, long and slow, increasing the pressure. Fingers, thumb pinching, pressing, tiny loops, returning to her core, firmly—
With a cry, she shattered in his arms.
Drawing her in, he held her tightly, felt the tremors cascading through her. She buried her face against his neck, and he cursed the neck cloth that prevented him from experiencing the feel of her lips and rapidly falling breaths.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice rough and raw. “Oh my God, I had no idea.”
He went completely still, not even drawing in a breath. He could not have heard ... she could not mean ... “Your husband never—”
“My husband?” she repeated as though it were a word foreign to her tongue.
“Yes, your husband. Did he never give you those sensations?”
She shook her head. “No.”
She eased back until she held his gaze, her face wreathed in awe. She shook her head again. “No.”
“Then he was a selfish bastard.”
Wrapping her hand around the arm that was still buried beneath her skirt, she gave it a little push. “I need a moment. Please.”
Very slowly, he removed his hand, straightened her skirts and then her bodice. He pressed a kiss to her temple, kept his voice low. “Come back to my residence. I can show you so much more.”
“No, no I can’t.” She scooted back into the corner, licked her luscious lips. “I can’t.”
In spite of the fact that he had no desire to do so, he returned to the bench opposite hers and simply studied her. “Had I known—”
She held up a hand to stifle his apology. “Please don’t say you’re sorry. I’m not. I just didn’t know.”
“I find that criminal.”
“Perhaps my husband didn’t know either. I don’t believe he had your experience.” She looked at the curtained window as though she could see beyond it. “I feel rather silly to have made such a fuss, to have cried out.”
“Trust me, I enjoyed very much your reaction.”
“I must trust you to have let you touch me so intimately.”
“Are you certain you won’t come back to my residence?”
She turned her attention back to him. “You are quite persuasive, but I’m not ready for the more you promise. I need to savor this for a bit. I don’t know if I’m quite comfortable with it. And I want to be if there is ever more between us.”
He almost reassured her that there would be more. He was not going to give her up without knowing her fully. As it was, his body was aching with need, but he’d never forced a woman. He wanted her willing, as she’d been before she understood the destination of the journey they were on.
He would have her, and it would be sweet, so sweet.
The coach slowed, came to a halt.
“Let me know when you’re ready to depart,” he said. “My footman will not open the door as long as the curtains are drawn.”
“Do you often misbehave in coaches?”
“I misbehave everywhere. I especially want to do so with you, as I seem to have little control when I am with you.”
