The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(28)
She couldn’t stop wondering: what would it be like to know the duke intimately. Would he be gentle or demanding or both?
Their gazes locked, and a corner of his lips turned up in a wicked smile as if he sensed what she was thinking. His pupils expanded, black and gold flecks in his eyes. “I suppose I should be grateful for your impetuous nature which led you here. At last, I have you right where I want you.”
All her senses heightened because of their position and his heated words. “Let me up. This is indecent.” She flattened her ungloved palms against his chest, whether to push him away or to simply touch him, she wasn’t certain. His flesh was hot and enticing, and her fingers curled into his muscles and the light sprinkling of hair.
A sizzling, predatory glimmer sparked in his eyes. “You should have thought of that before you entered a bachelor’s bedroom.”
He shifted, and she felt him even more firmly. Every nerve ending in her body came alive, and liquid warmth surged between her thighs. She struggled to control her raging emotions, the delicious sensations coursing through her veins. “You were having a nightmare. I was merely concerned.”
“Why?”
Because I can’t stand to see you suffering. Because I’ve suffered from bad dreams for years. And because your kisses steal my breath and my body hums when you touch me.
She tried to turn her face away, but he gently held her chin. There was no escaping his probing gaze. She struggled for an answer to his question, something that would pacify him and keep her uncomfortable feelings hidden, but it was too damned difficult with his magnificent body pressed against hers.
“Tell me why?” he insisted once more.
“Because I know that I’m grateful when someone wakes me from a nightmare.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you know about bad dreams?”
“More than you think, Your Grace.”
“I told you to call me Michael.”
“Fine. I entered your chamber because I was worried after last night, Michael. Nothing more.”
She wasn’t ready to admit the truth to him—that she felt for his suffering—connected with his deep-seated pain. She may have never been in battle, never experienced the deafening blast of cannon fire, but she had known the despair of illness and the fear of dying.
He reached up to take a lock of pale hair that had tumbled from her pins. His fingers entwined with the strands, and he caressed it between his thumb and forefinger. She watched, fascinated, and felt the touch like he’d stroked her actual flesh. Her awareness of him escalated. Her eyes dropped to his mouth…to his perfect lips, and she craved his kiss.
“I don’t believe you. I think you knew what would happen as soon as you opened my door, as soon as you touched me. I also think you want it as badly as I do.”
Was it true? Deep down she’d known there was more to their verbal sparring. The air sizzled between them whenever they were close.
Had she come here knowing what would happen?
Despite their differences—he was a duke, a man who knew about her past and who insisted on meddling with her future. She should hate him, despise his interference, but time had changed her opinion. He was loyal to Henry’s father, a deceased man. He didn’t have to honor his promise, no one would know, but he took his responsibility seriously. Even though she was the one he was “protecting” Henry from, she grudgingly admired Michael for upholding his vow. She understood loyalty and would do anything to protect her sisters. Perhaps they were similar souls after all.
And like her, he clearly had his demons.
His reaction to Napoleon’s gilded carriage at the museum was her first clue. Then the fireworks at the gardens affirmed her thoughts. And today, when she came to check on him, he was in the throes of a nightmare. What she’d told him was true. She knew all about bad dreams that left her reeling with shame and guilt and a hopeless despair.
Logic dictated she stay away from the Duke of Cameron. But all reason flew from her head whenever he was near. An undeniable magnetism had been building between them from the first moment they’d met. And when they touched, when he kissed her, she forgot her well-laid plans and could think only of the passionate escape she found in his arms.
“I promise you won’t regret it, Chloe.” He raised her chin with his fingers, allowing her to see the fierce hunger and his raw need. His smoldering gaze lowered to her mouth, and she licked her lips in anticipation of his kiss. Only he didn’t oblige her. He traced her bottom lip with a fingertip, a slow, sensual movement that made her lips part. “I was never able to properly kiss you last night.”
How could she resist him? She’d wanted him to kiss her last evening. She’d hoped it was only the spell cast by the romantic setting of the gardens—the hidden paths and sheltering arbors, the fragrant scent of the flowering bushes, and the soft cast of the lamplight, but the truth was, her need was no different today.
Only now she wanted it more, craved his kiss desperately…
His head lowered, and she met him halfway. His firm lips were caressing and coaxing, generously giving and selfishly taking all at the same time. She sighed into his kiss, gripped his powerful biceps, then wrapped her arms around his back. Smooth muscles rippled beneath her fingers. Her lips parted of their own accord, and she met his tongue in a wild swirl of desire. He tasted of danger and the delicious secrets of mysterious sexual pleasure. A tantalizing combination.