One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(55)

The longer he held her, however, the more he became aware of sensations that didn’t originate in his lap. The soft contours of her br**sts soothed his pounding heart. Her eyelashes fluttered sweetly against his neck. And she smelled so good. Her enticing perfume blended her usual lavender scent with hints of vanilla and some kind of spice … was it clove? Perhaps she’d visited the kitchens today.

He stroked her back, once. Purring, she nestled closer in his lap. An unfamiliar tenderness swelled in his heart. Encouraged, he repeated the touch, skimming his fingers up the delicate ridge of her spine. Up, then down. Slipping the pads of his fingers over each vertebra, as if counting pearls on a string. The slow, steady tempo calmed them both. Their lungs seemed to arrive at some instinctive agreement, and their chests ceased struggling against one another. Instead, they breathed in a rhythm, trading the air back and forth between them. Warm. Fragrant. Intimate.

More deeply arousing than anything he’d ever known.

“Your parents,” she murmured. “Did they love each other?”

“I … I’m not certain.”

What a question. He couldn’t recall his mother much, but he remembered his father had wept when she died. They’d wept together, the confused young boy and the hardened soldier. And then they’d never spoken of it again. When he’d learned of his father’s death years later, Spencer hadn’t shed a tear. He’d lashed out with fists instead, because he’d found it too devastating to contemplate weeping alone.

She said, “Mine did. They were devoted to one another. I always thought myself fortunate to have grown up with their example.” She shivered in his arms. “Now I’m not sure. Perhaps it only prepared me for disappointment.”

He brought her closer, until the heat of her skin seared his chest. That breath they kept trading back and forth—it came more quickly now, and hot. Places inside him were softening, thawing. He recalled her words to him in the corridor: You have no idea what more I could offer you. Oh, he did. He most definitely did. He’d watch his innards removed through his navel before admitting it, but on some fundamental level, he knew why he hadn’t been able to let her go that night. Why he’d bodily removed her from that ballroom; why he’d proposed to her scant hours after that. Because this woman displayed such loyalty to a no-account wastrel of a brother, and he just one of five. Surely somewhere in that boundless reserve, she could find a spare bit of devotion for him. He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it just the same.

“Amelia, look at me.”

Keeping her hands clasped behind his neck, she lifted her head. She went perfectly, absolutely still in his arms. She seemed to have ceased to breathe.

He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.

Her lips were warm and soft, her tongue cool and slick against his. Bracketing her face in his hands, he angled her head to deepen the kiss. She squirmed in his lap, but he held her tight, taking more. And then more. Stroking deep with his tongue, clashing teeth against teeth. He had to have this taste, this softness, this heat, and devil take it, he knew he was going to ruin everything by scaring her away, but he couldn’t stop.

He slid one hand to her breast and squeezed hard, because part of him wanted to punish her. Inside him, things were cracking and shifting with the deep, bone-shivering howl of ice splintering off from a glacier. Old pockets of emptiness were filling in; new chasms of need split asunder. It hurt. He was being rearranged in deep, forgotten places, and this woman was to blame. He kneaded harder, pinching the tight knot of her nipple, because he wanted her aching, too. It was unforgivable, and so damned unfair. Somehow she’d managed to get inside him before he’d gotten inside of her.

She made a startled cry against his mouth, jerking him into consciousness. He froze, breaking the kiss.

“Ten minutes,” she said, panting. “You have to let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Struggling against him, she choked on a sob. “Spencer, please.”

“If I release you, will you come to me tonight?”

He felt her head shake before he heard her answer. “No.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still afraid.”

“I’m more frightened than ever.”

He swallowed a roar of frustration. Damn it, hadn’t he shown her inhuman amounts of restraint? Aside from that little slip just now? How could she sit in his arms like this if she thought him capable of murder?

Swearing softly, he slid his hands from her body. She couldn’t even meet his gaze. Her eyelashes trembled against her cheeks.

“Go.” He closed his eyes and tried to master his breathing. Gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles went numb, he growled out, “Go. Damn it, get off my lap this instant, or I will not be responsible for my actions.”

She obeyed in haste, pressing her palms against his thighs for leverage as she rose. His chest sagged with relief as she left him. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and letting his head drop into his hands. His own labored breathing was a roar in his ears.

“Good night, Spencer,” she said quietly.

He heard a door latch click, but he didn’t look up. There were three doors leading from this room, and if he knew which one she’d exited through, there was an excellent chance he’d be breaking it down a second later.