Page 51 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
The crease deepened. “She threw you over for someone else and didn’t have the decency to tell you before you were at the church?”
“I suppose she didn’t know how to tell me.”
“She was a coward. She could have just said, ‘I want to marry someone else.’ It’s not that hard. I’m glad you didn’t marry her. You deserve someone stronger, someone with some gumption in them.”
Someone like her. Damn it all to hell, he’d planned to wait, to woo, to seduce. Instead she’d wooed and seduced him until all he wanted was her. With a slowness designed not to jar or hurt her, he lowered his mouth to hers.
She tasted of the dark richness of whisky, the sweetness of woman. Her hand came up and gently cradled his jaw, making him grateful he’d taken a razor to it before leaving his residence. Her soft sigh was music to his ears, shimmered through him, over him, around him, wrapping him in a cocoon of desire unlike anything he’d ever known.
He took the kiss deeper.
She loved the feel of that lush beautiful mouth against hers. His tongue traced the seam between her lips, almost a tickling, a teasing, and then with a bit more sureness. She no doubt should have admitted she’d never been kissed, had never wanted to be. This fire between them, or whatever it was, was only physical. He was such a gorgeous man, how could she not be drawn to him? Why he fancied her was beyond knowing. Perhaps he was simply tired of the posh in his life.
Then his tongue slid into her mouth, and she no longer was analyzing his reasons. She was simply parting her lips farther and enjoying the full taste and feel of his urgency, his passion, his wildness. She sensed he was holding back, either because he detected her inexperience or was concerned about her blasted injury. The wound ached, her head hurt, and she cursed them both for the unpleasant distraction that hovered at the far edges of her awareness.
She concentrated on him, the thoroughness with which he explored her mouth, his low growl when she returned the favor and slipped her tongue between his lips, tasting him fully and completely, relishing the dark flavor that was uniquely him. Or she thought it was. She had nothing with which to compare but couldn’t imagine any other man tasted as flavorful. With one hand cradling his jaw, she skimmed the fingers of the other up into his hair, loving the way the thick dark brown strands welcomed and curled around her. Tightening her grip, she held him, absorbing the warmth of his nearness.
Her limbs tingled, her body grew lethargic. If standing, she’d melt into the floor, and there would be wonder in that as well, falling along the length of his hard, masculine form.
His mouth slid off hers, trailed along her chin, creating a myriad of sensations that heated her to the core. She had this odd need for him to place his mouth elsewhere, on her breasts, her stomach, lower. Dear God, but she felt wanton, yet she seemed incapable of pushing him away as he nibbled along her throat, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin, before he moved on to the next area. He reached her collarbone and his mouth lingered, suckling gently before journeying back up to her chin and retreating.
His eyes held hers, and she was surprised by how his smoldered with need, need that matched her own. Her earlier statement about never being frightened mocked her now, because she was terrified, terrified this aching hunger within her would never be satisfied, that the fires he’d kindled would never be extinguished, that they would burn until she was consumed by them.
Gently he tucked his finger beneath her chin, stroked his thumb over her lower lip, wet and swollen, still tingling. “We’re not done here, you and I. But I won’t take advantage of a woman who might not be thinking clearly due to a blow to the head.”
Take advantage, her mind screamed, but her tongue had the good sense to remain still.
He rose to his feet. “Have you a book about that I could read to you?”
“A book?”
He began walking around, perusing one thing and then another. “Yes. I need to keep you awake. Reading might accomplish that. Something gruesome with a murder perhaps.”
She couldn’t help herself. Inwardly she smiled. “Something to take your mind off the kiss?”
Swinging around, he faced her, gave her a wry grin. “I am definitely in need of a distraction.”
“You don’t need to stay. I’m not going to fall asleep.”
“I’m not leaving, Gillie.”
She did wish she didn’t enjoy so much the way her name sounded on his tongue. Lifting a shoulder, she released a small sigh. “Front room.”
He started toward the open doorway, halted in midstride, paused a second longer like so many customers at her bar contemplating which liquor would get them quickest to where they wanted to be. Slowly he turned. “Would you like me to prepare you a bath?”
She stared at him as though he’d spoken to her in a foreign language. Or perhaps the blow to her head had caused her ears to become scrambled in their hearing. “I beg your pardon?”
A corner of that mouth that only a few moments before had been doing wicked things to hers hitched up. “You bathed me when you were caring for me.”
“That was different. You were filthy.”
“I suspect rolling around on the floor didn’t leave you exactly clean. If I were to move your clothing aside, I’m rather certain I’d find dirt elsewhere.”
“I’m not going to bathe in front of you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to.” That enticing hitch went up a little higher. “I woulddreamof it, to be honest, but I wouldn’t ask. I am striving to remain a gentleman here.”
Don’thovered on the end of her tongue and she nearly bit the tip to keep it from releasing an answer that could send her spiraling into perdition.
