Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(47)

She couldn’t look him in the eye. Goodness, did he know she’d blatantly sought out the secrets of his body as he lay sleeping? Her cheeks burned hot.

At the sound of Alex’s pained attempt to pull himself upright, she lifted her head and looked over; his maleness brought a hungry smile to her lips. Familiar longing flooded her person and heated her skin. Hestia admitted to herself that even though she might never have a future with him, she shamelessly still wanted him.

She craved him, plain and simple. Life was short, especially for those on board this ship, given where they were and the enemies chasing them. She had no idea what would happen when they sailed into Greek waters. The urge to give in to her desires grew the closer they got to the danger. Damned if she’d die never experiencing passion.

With heat pooling in her most private of places, she really didn’t care about the consequences of her desire. If Alex didn’t want to marry her, then she’d take what she could get. It seemed pointless to hang on to her innocence when she might not live through this adventure. She wanted to have one perfect night with the man she loved, to experience all that could be—passion, joy, and the feeling of closeness with the man who owned her heart.

Alex finally managed to stand. The effort saw him breathing heavily for a few moments before he walked out to his balcony with fists clenched. There he leaned against the railing and took a few deep breaths before turning and making his way back to his bed.

He clutched the headboard of his bunk, sweat glistening on his brow, his muscular body on display. His stare locked with hers. She stood motionless, soaking in his beauty. She felt her face flushing as Alex’s eyes darkened with answering desire, and her heart skipped a beat.

“What did that prove? Why are men so stubborn, or is it only you?” she scolded.

“It proved I’m getting stronger by the day; a few days ago I could barely stand up.”

He lowered himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk and pulled the sheet up to cover himself, but not quickly enough to hide his hardness.

He must be feeling better. This was ridiculous. Why should they go on denying their mutual attraction? She was sick of fooling herself; she wanted him, and it would seem the desire was mutual.

“Don’t.” He spoke the words in a deep, husky tone.

Forcing her hands to relax at her side, the fear of another rejection fresh in her mind, she approached him.

“Don’t do what? I haven’t done anything.” Her tone matched his: deep, soft, and inviting.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he growled. “You know very well what you are doing.” With a sigh he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “It can never be—leave me alone.” His tone was filled with raw emotion and made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. He wanted this as much as she did.

It hurt that his need for revenge against Murad meant more to him than her.

If they couldn’t find her father, then her days as a free woman were numbered. She would have to marry, and she would not be second best, not for Alex anyway. Being married to a man who owned your heart but did not love you in return would be torture. If Alex took a mistress, when Alex took a mistress, she’d die inside.

She would have to marry someone else. A man whose behavior could not hurt her. She had too much pride to beg Alex for the protection of his name.

However, she would not let Fredrick win, not after this.

What ate her up inside was the knowledge that it was too unfair to never know the sweetness of Alex’s touch. He was beautiful in mind and body. More important, she loved him. It had to be him—he had to be her first lover.

Nothing else mattered.

Only something else did matter to Alex—revenge. That’s why he was pushing himself so hard to regain his strength.

“You look as if you need this after your effort to disobey doctor’s orders. Admit it, trying to stand drained you.”

“I’m fine, I just need a moment to rest,” he said, but he drank a glass dry.

“Are you going to try to stand again, or do you understand you can’t rush the healing process?”

A growl came from deep in his chest before he flopped back onto his bed, sweat glistening on his torso. At least he had not damaged his stitches; they were healing nicely and needed to come out soon before healing completely over. The scabs were forming without any sign of infection.

Hestia hoped he couldn’t hear her pounding heart slamming against her rib cage. He would always affect her this way, but the newfound intimacy from caring for him heightened her desires. He desired her too; when he’d stood up, the evidence was clear for all to see.

As soon as Alex was well she would see where this mutual attraction led. She had but one life, and if she had to marry another, she wanted one night with Alex. She had no idea how she would achieve her goal.

Hestia took her chair and started to embroider. After thirty minutes, she glanced at Alex. The empty wineglass sat on the nightstand. He lay propped against the headboard, his eyes emerald slits, the pupils dilated by the laudanum she’d put in his wine.

She must have dozed a little herself, because her tapestry hitting the floor woke her. Or maybe it was the moans coming from Alex. She quietly approached the bunk and did her normal routine placing her palm on his forehead to check his temperature. He felt warm, but no more than usual.

Alex began to thrash his legs under the sheets, and she knew she had to stop him.