Page 71 of How to Capture a Duke

He let out a burst of air. “Never. He will not support the bill simply because he knows I desire for it to pass. Dumfries led the pack of bullies when I was at Eton. He was relentless back then, and our animosity toward each other has not faded. I’ll never trust the man.”

She didn’t blame him. His childhood experiences had shaped the man, not his stammering.

The casement was cracked open, and a refreshing breeze blew in through the open window. A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead, and without thought, she reached out and brushed it aside. “You feel a need to help the downtrodden, and that’s why the Soldiers Bill means a lot to you.”

“I suppose I do.”

“You needn’t worry,” she said. “I’m certain you can handle Lord Dumfries just as you can outmaneuver any political opponent.”

He lowered his gaze to her mouth. “I find your confidence in me arousing. Does that shock you?”

A quiver surged through her veins, and she was aware of the harsh, uneven rhythm of her breathing. Her mind relived the velvet warmth of his kiss, the hardness of his body pressed against her softness.

“I find your intelligence arousing. Does that shock you?” she asked.

She recognized the ardor in his gaze. His nearness kindled feelings of fire, and her heart fluttered wildly in her breast. She sensed that if she inched forward, he would meet her the rest of the way.

She watched transfixed as his mouth lowered, and his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was slow and thoughtful, but when she opened to him and greedily met his tongue with her own, he pulled her to him and kissed her with a hunger that left no doubt in her mind that he desired her. She tasted the rich wine on his tongue, and it was as intoxicating as the man.

He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’ve tried to forget our one night together. God knows I’ve tried, but every time I lie down at night, I envision you gloriously naked, and I cannot forget the feel of you, the taste of you. Your throaty sighs of pleasure fill my senses. I pace my bedchamber and end up at the door connecting our rooms and long to break it down until there are no barriers between us.”

She froze, stunned by his admission and the intensity of his dark eyes. The conflict within him was more than just a physical need, but one for closeness and connection after years of emotional isolation. It was why he’d posed as a head groom rather than join his own house party, why he worked alone in his study night after night, and why he’d never joined her for a simple meal. She held still, waiting breathlessly, a longing in her heart.

Her chest tightened, and her own longing inflamed. He lowered his head, his lips grazing her ear. “When you came here tonight asking to help me, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”

He nipped her earlobe then kissed a path down her neck, her shoulders. Her legs quivered, and she grew warm. She thought that if she wasn’t sitting beside him, she’d simply slip to the floor and melt into the carpet. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, breathed in his familiar scent, and held him close.

He lowered his head, his hot breath brushing against her bodice. She leaned closer in invitation, a gasp escaping her lips. The scrape of a day’s worth of stubble on his chin only served to enhance her excitement. She wanted her breasts bared to his glorious mouth and hands. Thankfully, he understood the extent of her need.

“I want you, wife. Tell me you want the same.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. “Oh, yes.”

“Stand, love.”

She obeyed, and he made swift work of the buttons and hooks of her gown then her corset and shift until she was left only in her silk stockings and lace garters. His eyes darkened as his gaze licked over her skin.

Wasting no time, he reached for his shirt, lifted it over his head, and tossed it aside. His boots followed, then he went for the placket of his trousers. Breathing heavily through parted lips, she watched. He removed his trousers, and his cock sprang free, long and thick.

As she stared at the size and length, it moved, growing harder. It was nothing like she’d imagined. Rather than be frightened, her curious and adventurous nature took hold. She wanted to caress and explore.

He lowered her to the cushions of the settee. She tried to touch him, and he grasped one wrist, then the other, and pinned them above her head. His eyes feasted on her naked breasts.

“Look at you. A tempting Venus.”

“So are you. Let me touch you.”

“Not yet.”

He took a pert nipple in his mouth, hot and hungry. Searing sensations flooded her, all the way to her womb. She arched toward him, whimpering and moving her legs restlessly beneath him. She tugged on his hold above her head.

He released her wrists, and she stroked her hands across his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, then lower still. Her fingers grazed his hardness.

He hissed in a breath. “Olivia.”

Encouraged, she held his shaft in her hand, memorized the feel of him. He was a contradiction—the length was hard as iron, but the tip was velvet soft. She ran a finger around the head. His groan thrilled and encouraged her. He’d tasted her; why couldn’t she do the same?

Pushing him aside, she sank to her knees before him on the plush Oriental carpet then touched the tip of her tongue to the tip.