Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(39)
She craned her neck up to see the clock on the mantel. Five o’clock. Too early, but she knew from the hum in her body that she would not go back to sleep. She was too aware of Dominic and all that was happening between them, the tumultuous peaks of physical ecstasy and troughs of emotional misery. She tried to ease his fingers from her stomach, but the large hand with its long fingers tightened against her.
‘Arabella?’ His voice was husky from sleep. She felt the stirring of his arousal against her buttocks.
‘You are awake.’ She rolled round to face him, carefully opening up a small distance between them, not knowing how things would be between them this morning, whether he would probe again into the past, asking questions that were too dangerous to answer.
He smiled and there was about him this morning none of the tension that had been so evident between them last night.
The growth of dark stubble peppered his cheeks and chin. He looked piratical and dangerous and wicked and yet the look in his eyes was loving and velvet and molten. He glanced towards the clock, then smiled again in that way that made her heart somersault.
With an easy, unhurried air he rose from the bed and, without the slightest self-consciousness over his nakedness, made his way over to the pitcher and basin to wash. Arabella sat up, pulling the sheets up high to cover her own nudity, and watched him. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to slim hips. His every movement created ripples in the muscles that defined it. She watched the droplets of water roll down the pale golden skin of his back.
He glanced round and saw her sitting there watching him. She felt her cheeks heat and looked quickly away.
‘I will call one of the footman to help you dress.’ She slipped from the bed, grabbed up her shift and held it against her to preserve some measure of modesty, then hurried over to the wardrobe to fetch her dressing gown. She opened the wardrobe door using it as a screen between herself and Dominic. The shift dropped to the floor and she slipped on the thin cotton dressing gown, tying its belt around her waist. But when she closed the cupboard door Dominic was standing right there looking at her.
‘I do not need a footman.’ His voice was husky and his eyes seemed to darken with hunger as he looked at her. She saw his gaze drop lower and watched while he reached a hand across to rub the back of his wet knuckles gently against her breast, wetting the thin white cotton to render it transparent. Her nipple hardened and strained rosy and peaked through the material. He rubbed against it a little longer and she felt desire shimmer right through her. His hand dropped lower to tug one end of her belt so that the loose knot parted and the gown fell open.
‘I am not washed,’ she said, feeling embarrassed at how wantonly her body was responding to him even in daylight.
He leaned in closer and took her mouth with his, kissing her to make her forget all of her protestations. He smiled again. ‘Then let me wash you.’ And he lifted the soap.
‘Open your legs.’
Arabella stared at him. Her heart was beating very fast. ‘You cannot,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t you want me to?’ he replied against her lips, then nuzzled kisses against her neck.
She knew that it was wrong, that she should not want any of this. But when he peeled the dressing gown off her shoulders, sliding it down her body to land upon the floor, and kissed her, she wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss with passion.
Dominic deepened the kiss and ran his hand over her body, stroking her, and caressing her with a touch that was both gentle yet possessive. And then he moved away and she saw him lather up his hands in the water. And her mouth went dry.
He turned to her; there was such a hunger in his eyes that she felt herself tremble. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling him to her.
His mouth was hot against her ear. ‘Open your legs,’ he whispered.
‘Dominic…’ she protested.
He kissed her mouth, a long stroking sensual kiss that ended in him biting softly against her lower lip.
Her body reacted independently of her mind; her legs opened for him and she felt him touch her. The water was cold against her heat and she gasped both from the shock of that and the audacity of what he was doing. He massaged her gently, washing her with a thoroughness that made her legs tremble. And then he rinsed her, cupping handfuls of water over her so that it ran it rivulets down her thighs while she gasped with the wanton pleasure of it. Her legs were shaking so much that she collapsed against him. Dominic gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
She pulled him to her, knowing where this was leading and wanting it all the same, wanting him as if she still loved him. Because when he touched her something inside opened up to him and she could not stop herself from this any more than she could stop her heart from beating or her lungs from breathing. It was more than desire, more than just a physical intimacy. She needed his warmth, his strength, his tenderness. She needed to be able to forget the worry and the pain. She needed to feel this sharing of a heart. Love, even pretended, after all the years of unhappiness, was a balm to Arabella’s soul.
‘Dominic,’ she breathed and felt him move over her and kiss her all the more. She opened to him, wanting him to take her, needing to feel him inside her. And in response the probe of his manhood pressed between her legs. She wriggled her hips, her hands sliding to his firm flank to pull him against her.
‘Arabella,’ he groaned her name, and she could hear his need in his voice and feel it in the tension that vibrated throughout his body. For all that his movements were controlled she could sense the urgency beneath. His mouth left hers and he adjusted his position to slide lower down her body so that she thought he meant to kiss her breasts, to taste her, to suckle from her. Her nipples hardened with unbearable sensitivity just at the thought of it and between her legs grew even slicker.