Page 17 of Duke with a Deception
All he could do was stare. His hungry eyes drank in the sight of her. Firm, high breasts tipped with pale-pink nipples that matched her mouth. A wonderfully curved waist that led to the flare of her hips, the beauty of her legs. And between them, the paradise he longed to claim. Her thighs were pressed together, keeping much of her from him when all he longed for was glistening pink folds.
If he dropped to his knees before her, he could hook one leg over his shoulder, and she would be exposed. Open for him like a summer blossom. His to sample and savor. Every part of him screamed with the need to taste her.
“Verity,” he managed, his voice hoarse. “You aren’t wearing a nightgown.”
“I’ve been waiting for tonight for the last two months,” she murmured, her countenance shy. “I thought you were as well.”
Sweet God, he was persuaded he had been waiting for all his life to see Verity naked in his bedroom, his for the taking. A thunderous crash of raw desire swept over him, so ferocious he swore she must have heard it. So potent he had to clench his fists at his sides, fingernails biting into his palms, to keep from touching her.
“I am. I was. Yes.” He shook his head, aware that he was babbling, which was ridiculous.
He was the Duke of Kingham, dedicated rake, arbiter of fashion, aloof and untouchable, always with a barbed remark at the ready. Immune to embarrassment, guilt, or anything as plebian as human emotion. Since when did a beautiful woman and a luscious pair of breasts turn him into a stammering fool?
Sinceher.
If he weren’t so busy admiring her, he might have resented Verity for the weakness she caused in him. For the way she rattled him, slipping past his guards, bringing him low.
“But I don’t want to be hasty,” he added, grasping at the customary sangfroid that had abandoned him the instant he had seen her in his bed. “You’ve been through a great deal.”
“I am healed,” she protested, smiling shyly.
She certainly looked healed. His gaze swept over her again of its own accord. She was beyond lovely. Perhaps the most singularly gorgeous woman in his admittedly vast acquaintance. Her body showed scars from the trials she had faced—some pink, healing skin on her wrists and arms. All proof of how fearless and selfless she had been that day. Her mind, however, was a different matter, not nearly as well healed.
It was a matter he didn’t dare broach for what it would mean for himself, not since her words earlier at dinner. But he didn’t want to think about the possibility of her memory returning. He’d been hiding from the prospect all night long.
“You’ve endured much,” he protested, thinking it astounding she could stand there before him wearing nary a stitch, no hint of shyness or trepidation.
She was deliciously at home in her skin, and he liked the confidence with which she carried herself.
Be a gentleman, he cautioned himself.
Take your time.
Seduce her slowly.
Difficult advice to heed when he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, carry her to the bed, and sink his cock so deep inside her that it would be a miracle if he ever emerged.
They had the rest of their lives for him to show her passion and pleasure. He was a selfish bastard, and he had thought this through. He wasn’t just exercising restraint for her sake, but for his own, too. He liked nothing more than prolonging pleasure,heightening it, drawing it out until he could scarcely bear it. That was what he intended to do with Verity. To woo her, seduce her, slowly, painstakingly, and with great care.
She moved toward him, closing the distance, her hands coming to rest lightly on his chest like a pair of butterflies, only infinitely more beautiful and dangerous. Her chin tipped up, her heart-shaped face tilted toward his in invitation.
“I may have endured a bit of pain, but it is nothing compared to what the poor orphans faced, not to mention Mr. Gritton, who perished in the fire.”
Ah, there was something to wilt his rampant cock.
News of death.
Except, it wasn’t seeming to have an effect.
“You are an angel among us,” he said, taking her arms in a light but firm grip and leading her toward the door adjoining their chambers. “But a good night’s rest is what you require after such a long and trying day.”
Her brow was furrowed once more. “Trying? How was it so?”
Roses and bergamot invaded his senses. Why did she have to smell so bloody good?
“A lengthy wedding,” he said sternly. “The breakfast that followed. Was that not trying?”
“It was thrilling.”
