“Perhaps I am simply contemplating all the ways you have vexed me tonight,” she replied between moans, feeling Heath’s laughter flow deliciously from her lips. The Duke’s warm breath mingled with hers, making her skin crawl.
She had never wanted a man so badly, nor had she ever wanted to make a man want her so badly. But desire won by far this time. For only this night, at least.
“I shall take that as an admission that I have occupied your thoughts.”
She shot him a glance, sharp and assessing, though it lacked its usual bite.
As he spoke, his hands slid deliciously down her body. Blanche felt that familiar tension welling up in her lower belly, making the spot between her thighs burn with desire.
She wanted him to explore and touch her.
“Do not flatter yourself,” she whispered, tilting his head to give Heath better access to her neck.
The Duke’s mouth ran soft bites along her jaw and down to her shoulders.
As Blanche felt his fingers hastily slide over her corset and unfasten the straps of her cleavage, he stroked her full, turgid breasts.
And then, Heath cocked his head slightly to one side, breaking away from her for a moment to study her. His smile never faded as he stopped mid-step.
“I want you to say it, Wildcat.”
“Say… Say what?”
“Say you want me,” he said, cupping her breasts with one hand until she moaned. “Ask me not to stop, or I’ll pull away and never touch you again.”
Looking into Heath’s eyes, Blanche could see the dark, latent gleam that revealed how much he wanted to continue. But she also saw the certainty in his gaze that he would stop unless she asked him not to.
For a moment, she hesitated to oblige him, but then she realized that by refusing, she would be punishing herself more than him.
So her lips uttered the truth they both shared, which she had not dared to voice. “Please, Heath… I want more,” Blanche implored.
In response, Heath gave him the most exquisite and persuasive smile of all. “As you command.”
His fingers traced the path that his tongue slowly followed. Her heartbeat quickened as his warm mouth brushed against her breasts for the first time, touching her in a way that was new and exciting.
She had often woven such encounters into her stories, shaping them with vivid imagination—yet never had she envisioned herself within them.
They belonged to the protagonists of her tales, to characters crafted with purpose, not to her own reality. But tonight, as the world around her shifted, Blanche felt, for the first time, that she was no longer merely the reader, the observant.
She was the story. She felt beautiful, desired, and deeply aroused.
She craved Heath’s touch, grateful for every delicious caress he gave her. He clung to her body as if it might otherwise lose its connection to the earth, embracing her and drawing her against his warm, firm body while his tongue circled her marbled skin and finally reached for one of her nipples.
When he did, Heath bit down gently and firmly. He caught her nipple between his teeth and began tracing circles over it with his tongue, causing her to moan.
“Be careful, Wildcat, or you’ll arouse suspicion,” he teased, causing Blanche to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning as loudly as she wanted to.
However, the heat that was coursing through her was almost impossible to hide, and Blanche no longer wanted to pretend that she could contain it.
“How terribly delicious you are, Duchess.” Heath seemed to enjoy the heat rising in Blanche’s cheeks as she tried to maintain her composure.
She wanted to keep up with his usual witty banter, but Heath had the advantage at that moment, because the experience was new to her, but not to him.
“And how terribly pleased you look…”
“It must be because I have a wife who enjoys preludes,” Heath teased, slipping one of his hands under her dress and pushing aside the layers of fabric to slip between her legs.
She felt his sure, rhythmic touch running up and down her thighs, brushing her there, on the spot that remained hot and pulsing.
