Page 17 of Misadventures with a Duke

She has to know that too but repeats nonetheless, “Very, very crazy. This has got to be—I mean—maybe it’s just a dream. Oh, God. That’s it, isn’t it? I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m not even here. I’m probably drooling on my keyboard and—”

I drown the rest of her fuss beneath the crash of my kiss.

Crash.

It is the perfect word. I have fantasized about taking her like this, perhaps more times than I should, but never acted on the desire before this uncontrollable moment. Before I crossed the barrier between need and compulsion, desire and demand, choice and commandment. I have to conquer her like this. I must tame her, taste her, and take her to a wild mental island of my creation. A place where no other words exist on her feisty lips save one…yes…

When I finally release her, so many minutes later, her head stays tilted back. The copper tips of her lashes flutter up at me.

“Oh…yes,” she rasps. “Such a dream…”

A low growl vibrates up my throat. I am conflicted. Officially she has spoken the word, but it has come with friends. Unnecessary ones. I order them away with another smash of my lips against hers. Another plunge along her tongue. A tighter hold of her stunning curves, ending with my greedy hand against her firm little derriere.

She gasps against my lips. I answer with a scoundrel’s smile.

“A dream, my luscious lily? If that is still so, then I pray we slumber a lifetime. Perhaps two or three.”

Another taut breath escapes her. “You have no idea how right you might be, my lord De Le—ahhh!”

Her cry, a result of my gentle bite to her bottom lip, is nearly as perfect as her orgasm scream. Nearly. “Little girl, surely you have not forgotten so soon, hmm?”

And there are her eyes, in all their wide and wondering glory. “Forgotten?” she stammers. “Ahhh…what, exactly?”

I nibble her top lip this time. “That surely you meant Monsieur le Duke De Leon?”

“Duke?” Her greens pop even wider. Mon dieu, such emerald glory. “Duke De Leon? Okay, this plot is thickening.”

Fate, in its divine humor, has that word corresponding to my next move before either of us can help it. As she spills the description, I am already swerving the spear at my center into the soft cleft of hers. We groan and laugh together. Suddenly, everything feels right again. Like us again. She admits it, as well. Not out loud, but in so many other ways. The weight that is gone from her mirth. The dimples that reappear in her cheeks. Most wonderfully, the acquiescence that eases into her body—and the soft awe that spreads across her face.

“Well, talk about awesome timing.”

I push my forehead to hers and inhale deeply. “’Twould that we not talk at all, ma magie.” Another long breath in, this time to appreciate the nuances of her new scent. There is no more trace of the blood and fear in which I had to leave her. In which I will never leave her again.

“Ohhh.” She moans it out as my lips trail down the side of her face, tickling the curls at her hairline. “Okay, then…” The moan becomes a watery, sexy sigh as I continue my oral adventure, kissing my way to the delicate curve of her ear. “Should we forget about timing too?”

“Oui,” I husk and recommence my nibbles along her sensitive shell. She trembles in my arms before wrapping her own around my neck.

“Maybe…we should just forget about the whole time thing, period.”

I smile into her skin while pulling her deeper into my embrace. “I can think of nothing more perfect, my love.”

RAEGAN

This is crazy.

No. What’s the next stop past that? Then maybe a couple past that?

Because I shouldn’t be here, melting like ice cream in this man’s embrace. I shouldn’t be letting my own arms turn to taffy, winding tighter until my hands are threading up through his damp, thick hair. I shouldn’t be inhaling as if his whole chest has turned into the front door at MarieBelle and I want to consume every gorgeous ganache in the place.

MarieBelle would actually be a better place for me right now.

No. Hell would be.

Not that it isn’t already swinging the gates wide, getting ready to send out the welcome wagon. How many commandments in the book am I breaking? Do I want to know? This man—Maximillian De Leon’s brother—has somehow accomplished the same feat as his older sibling, despite the accounts of all the history books.

According to them, his body and head were officially separated in early March 1789, right after a mob of revolutionaries killed his parents in similar fashion. So are the records wrong—or has he rewritten them? Did he elude the executioner by jumping into the family time machine as well? How did he even know to do it?

Max told us the only guiding light he had was his heart—that he had clung to a vision of Allie and then found himself in this century. It seems Bastien has followed the same premise, except his true love is someone named Magique.