The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(77)

"First of all," he murmured, "we need to do something about all of your clothes."

Daphne gasped with shock as he stood, pulling her to her feet along with him. Her legs were weak, her balance nonexistent, but he held her upright, his hands bunching her skirts around her waist. He whispered in her ear, "It's difficult to strip you naked when you're lying down."

One of his hands found the curve of her buttocks, and started massaging her in a circular motion.

"The question," he mused, "is do I push the dress up, or pull it down?" Daphne prayed that he wasn't expecting her to actually answer his question, because she couldn't make a sound."Or," he said slowly, one finger slipping under the ribboned bodice of her dress, "both?"

And then, before she had even a moment to react, he'd pushed her dress down so that the entire garment encircled her waist. Her legs were bare, and were it not for her thin silk chemise, she would have been completely naked.

"Now this is a surprise," Simon murmured, palming one of her breasts through the silk. "Not an entirely unwelcome one, of course. Silk is never as soft as skin, but it does have its advantages."

Daphne's breath fled as she watched him slide the silk slowly from side to side, the sweet friction causing her nipples to pucker and harden.



"I had no idea," Daphne whispered, her every breath sliding hot and moist across her lips.

Simon went to work on her other breast. "No idea of what?"

"That you were so wicked."

He smiled, slow and full of the devil. His lips moved to her ear, whispering, "You were my best friend's sister. Utterly forbidden. What was I to do?"

Daphne shivered with desire. His breath touched only her ear, but her skin prickled across her entire body.

"I could do nothing," he continued, edging one strap of her chemise off her shoulder, "except imagine."

"You thought about me?" Daphne whispered, her body thrilling at the notion. "You thought about this?"

His hand at her hip grew tight. "Every night. Every moment before I fell asleep, until my skin burned and my body begged for release."

Daphne felt her legs wobble, but he held her up.

"And then when I was asleep..." He moved to her neck, his hot breath as much of a kiss as the touch of his lips. "That's when I was truly naughty."

A moan escaped her lips, strangled and incoherent and full of desire.

The second chemise strap fell off her shoulder just as Simon's lips found the tantalizing hollow between her breasts. "But tonight—" he whispered, pushing the silk down until one breast was bared, and then the other. 'Tonight all of my dreams come true."

Daphne had time only to gasp before his mouth found her breast and fastened on her hardened nipple.

"This is what I wanted to do in Lady Trowbridge's garden," he said. "Did you know that?"

She shook her head wildly, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. She was swaying from side to side, barely able to hold her head straight. Spasms of pure feeling were shooting through her body, robbing her of breath, of balance, even of thought.

"Of course you didn't," he murmured. "You're such an innocent."

With deft and knowing fingers, Simon slid the rest of her clothes from her body, until she was nude in his arms. Gently, because he knew she had to be almost as nervous as she was excited,



he lowered her onto the bed.

His motions were uncontrolled and jerky as he yanked at his own clothing. His skin was on fire, his entire body burning with need. Never once, however, did he take his eyes off of her. She lay sprawled on the bed, a temptation like none he'd ever seen. Her skin glowed peachy smooth in the flickering candlelight, and her hair, long since released from its coiffure, fell around her face in wild abandon.

His fingers, which had removed her clothing with such finesse and speed, now felt awkward and clumsy as he tried to make sense of his own buttons and knots.

As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. "Don't,"

he said, barely recognizing his own voice.

Her eyes met his, and he said, "I'll be your blanket."

He peeled the rest of his clothing off, and before she could utter a word, he moved to the bed, covering her body with his. He felt her gasp with surprise at the feel of him, and then her body stiffened slightly.

"Shhh," he crooned, nuzzling her neck while one of his hands made soothing circles on the side of her thigh. "Trust me."

"I do trust you," she said in a shaky voice. "It's just that—"

His hand moved up to her hip. "Just that what?"

He could hear the grimace in her voice as she said, "Just that I wish I weren't so utterly ignorant."

A low ramble of a laugh shook his chest.

"Stop that," she griped, swatting him on the shoulder.

"I'm not laughing at you," Simon insisted.

"You're certainly laughing," she muttered, "and don't tell me you're laughing with me, because that excuse never works."

"I was laughing," he said softly, lifting himself up on his elbows so that he could look into her face, "because I was thinking how very glad I am of your ignorance." He lowered his face down until his lips brushed hers in a feather-light caress. "I am honored to be the only man to touch you thus."