Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(45)
Hestia shook her head, unable to understand why he’d not fought for her. His desire was visible whenever he looked at her. Yet he made no move to pursue her. In fact, he played the infamous rake to the hilt over that period, his reputation for pleasures of the flesh becoming notorious.
Hestia bit her bottom lip. Knowing all this, why did her heart still yearn for him so?
Because every now and then he teased her with glimpses of the man she’d come to know on that voyage home.
During her first season, while shopping on Bond Street one day, she’d spied Alex speaking angrily to a hackney driver for whipping an underfed, overworked horse. When the scoundrel told him to mind his own business Alex demanded to buy the horse and replace it with a fresher one. Then there was the time she’d caught Alex playing with his cousin’s three young children in the park. Once he’d left she’d quizzed their nanny. Apparently he made time at least once a week when he was in London to visit with the children. Not many men of his standing would bother.
He liked children. It made her long to provide him with sons, beautiful replicas of their father. They could become such a happy family.
Her tapestry dropped from her lap, jerking her out of her wistful remembrance. Bending to pick it up, she scolded herself; she was supposed to be caring for him, not daydreaming. However, as ashamed as she was, Hestia couldn’t miss an opportunity to study the man before her.
What went on in that head of his? What secrets did he hold tight in his heart?
She rose from the chair and hobbled to his bedside.
Dim candlelight from the washstand sculpted his high cheekbones in shadow. She stroked his cheek, raspy from a day’s growth. His lips looked soft and plump, and the dramatic angles of his face had softened in his sleep.
She swept her eyes down his body. His chest was like polished marble, except for the sparse sprinkling of hair, rough like the bit of marble surface exposed to the elements. But his skin was warm under her touch, not cold and unmoving like a statue.
His muscled torso was chiseled and defined, not bulky, but rather superbly athletic. His arms looked powerful and she shivered with a longing to know the feeling of them wrapped around her. His waist was flat, but defined. The muscles of his abdomen were like ripples on a pond, racing away beneath the sheet covering the area she was most interested in.
She’d never seen a naked man before. Was she bold enough to take a peek? Would she be disappointed? Looking toward heaven as if asking God to forgive her, she turned her attention back to Alex’s covered groin and gingerly took the sheet between her fingers, then lifted it far enough to satisfy her curiosity.
The ladies of the ton were right, she decided with a private smile. Every inch of him was quite perfect, although not as big as they’d made out. She recalled some gossip doing the rounds that indicated he was tremendously well endowed. That part of his anatomy didn’t look that intimidating from here.
Hestia froze. Her cheeks turned crimson. As if hearing her insolent thoughts, his member began to thicken. It engorged to an incredible size, both in length and in girth, and stood to attention underneath the upheld sheet.
She dropped the sheet as if it were on fire. It tented over his groin. She slowly raised her eyes back up his body to meet compelling green eyes smoldering under his heavy-lidded gaze.
A raspy voice, seductively sending shivers down her spine, said, “So, my angel, you’ve come to torment my dreams once more. Even when injured I can’t seem to rid you from my thoughts. You can see the effect you have on me. My desire for you is very strong.”
Sweet heaven. She had seen that look before in men’s eyes. Want, need, primitive male lust. She should be ecstatic to see the desire burning in his eyes, but with a deep sigh she understood he could be dreaming of someone else. Besides, he was in no condition to act on it. Even worse, it was probably his insensibilities talking. Actually, more like screaming.
She would try to ignore his aroused state. Wryly she admitted that would be difficult, given the sheet’s height over his groin.
With pure will she turned her gaze to his upper body, and her heart melted. He looked so lost, dazed, and confused. She tenderly cupped his cheek and whispered, “Would you like something to drink, Alex?”
“Even in my dreams you aren’t mine. If a drink is all I’ll get from you, so be it.” He tried to sit up and let out a low groan.
“Are you in dreadful pain?”
“Not from my injury, my darling. Seeing you, smelling you, hearing you, but not being able to touch you, are far worse agonies.” He raised his hand and ran his thumb seductively over her lips. “This dream is more real than anything I’ve previously experienced. Would you taste real?” He dropped his hand and sighed. “But you’re not real, just a figment of my imagination. A dream of you is not what I want. I crave the real thing, to feel your soft curves beneath me, to plunge into your hot sheath and make you sob with ecstasy. And that I can never do, you’ll never be mine.”
Hestia smiled. He had no idea she was real, alive, just a hairbreadth away from him and also ablaze with longing. Perhaps it was better this way. Perchance, in his drug-induced state, she’d find out the truth. Did he have feelings for her? What would those feelings be? If he did, why did he hesitate to claim her?
She raised a glass of brandy with a drop of laudanum in it to his parched lips and let him drink.
Once he finished, Alex slumped back against the pillows, his body half sitting up, leaning on his uninjured side. Hestia couldn’t resist tenderly pushing his soft locks off his gorgeous face.