Page 84 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
And that was a new sensation.
For in a business transaction the only needs that truly mattered were his. It did not matter that he said he cared for the pleasure of the woman he was with, his needs were the ones that were discussed. His specific tastes were outlined. Agreed to.
And when it came to Jane it had been, in essence, about her, and yet also about the title. About everything he wished to be while fully inhabiting his space as the Duke. As her husband.
But then her pink tongue darted up to touch her upper lip, and he was lost.
He growled, drawing her body forward, crushing her breasts to his chest. She let out a short, shocked moan—pleasure, he could see it on her face. In the rising colour of her skin.
He traced the line of her jaw, to the centre of her chin, and then around the other side, and she let her head fall back. Then he let his hand drift down and made a cage for her throat with his palm. She held still, like prey in the jaws of a predator.
And a kick of desire raced through his body. Made him feel powerful. Desired.
For she could fight him if she wished, and she didn’t.
She was surrendering.
It was in every line of her body. The set of her shoulders, the way that her beautiful mouth went soft.
He moved his hand upward again, and held her face steady as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.
And the world around them began to burn.
Chapter Sixteen
This was unlike anything she had ever imagined. She had never imagined it, that was the problem, perhaps. But she had never been kissed. And the press of his firm mouth to hers was something that went quite beyond the reaches of her previous imaginings.
He smelled so good. Soap and his skin and West.
This man who meant something to her that was quite beyond anything.
His mouth was certain, his lips knowing as he parted them, and touched the tip of his tongue to hers.
Her knees went weak, soft, and she found herself sagging against him. And his firm grip held her up.
The way that he used his strength to guide her, to keep her from falling, it was more intoxicating than anything ever could be.
And she was lit up from within.
A pulse pounded between her thighs, and she knew full well what it meant. That whatever her trepidation, whatever her fears, she wanted him. She wanted him there.
She wanted to weep with the triumph of that.
With the glory of this need.
She wanted to howl with pleasure.
God save her, she was ignited.
He kissed her, deeper, longer, harder.
Locked onto her mouth and made her feel weak and strong all at once.
‘Kiss me,’ he growled.
And she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. The press of her breasts against the firm wall of his chest was incredible. He was so hot. So strong. And that strength would’ve frightened her before.
And now she loved it. Wished to play with it. With the bonds of it. How far he might carry her, how intensely he might push them both.
