Page 50 of The Devil's Accidental Duchess
CHAPTER 17
Oh heavens.
Selina couldn’t possibly resist when Philip kissed her like that, like she was all that mattered and all that existed… for however long the moment lasted.
She melted into the solidity of his body, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her fingers slid through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor, a slight smirk touching her lips when she remembered what he had said to her last night.
No, Philip, you did not imagine my frantic breaths in the library, nor the way I kissed you back so fervently. And no, I was not clinging to you purely to steady myself.
Her breath was already frantic, sawing in and out of her between hungry kisses. Maybe he did want her, if this was how he made her feel every time he came so close. Yes, she knew she wassupposed to be keeping her distance, but it was impossible when his kiss was a thing of magic, bringing her to life each time.
Slowly, he pressed forward, bending her back until she lay on the stone bench. The weight of him above her was a wondrous thing, her hands sliding down the tense, powerful muscles of his arms.
He dipped his head to trace kisses down the curve of her neck before coming back up the column of her throat. Searing grazes that arched her back and made breath compete with moans, her body tingling from head to toe.
“Do you see what you do to me?” he purred close to her ear. “Do youfeelwhat you do to me?”
He tilted his hips forward, and a gasp escaped her throat. A friction sparked between her thighs, the sensation of something hard, something that strained against her.
Those wretched metaphors.
She thought of her books and how they would never quite explain what now piqued her curiosity.
A rough hand pulled on the seam of buttons that ran down the front of her nightdress. They popped at his will, though she didn’t hear any scatter to the ground.
“As if I don’t want you,” he murmured as his hand slid under the flimsy fabric, his warm, calloused palm smoothing over the swell of her breasts.
Her breath hitched at the touch, suddenly aware that they were out in the open. Then again, it was dark, and the shy moon had seen fit to hide behind some clouds. The walls of the garden offered plenty of cover, as did the trees that rose higher than the bricks.
“Oh!” she gasped, feeling the warmth of his mouth. Not at all where she had expected.
He pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked gently, a ricochet of pleasure firing through her. Her back arched higher off the bench, inadvertently—or perhaps fortuitously—angling her hips so she felt that torturous brush of hardened mystery once more.
“Your Grace,” she moaned, her fingernails digging into his arms. “Oh, Your Grace…”
“Philip,” he growled. He sucked again. “Or my husband.”
She bit her lip as he sucked harder, her hips bucking.
“Yes, Philip!” she cried out. “Oh, yes!”
He unpinned the fastening of her cloak, the sides falling and draping over the edges of the bench. Then, as his mouth movedto tend to her other breast, his hand slid down that line of buttons, undoing the rest of them one by one… all the way to the last.
The nightdress fell apart, joining the cloak in making a makeshift drape for the bench.
Cool night air whispered across her bare skin, the thrill of it heightening her senses. The idea that someone might walk through the garden gate at any moment or be peering out of their window was a titillating thing, adding to the urgency.
Yet, Philip seemed unhurried.
He lifted up to catch her mouth with his, crushing a hard kiss to her lips, his tongue dancing with hers. She held him there for a moment, savoring him, indulging herself.
“Do you feel wanted yet?” he whispered.
Breathless, she peered up into his eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling he was teasing her.
“Not yet,” she replied with a smirk.
A dark chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “Well then…”
