He kept staring at a squirrel in the garden and not in a ‘how cute it is’ way. He looked like a predator. “Yes. I’d like to see the good doctor again.”
“Great. Now please don’t talk and don’t move.”
He flashed a lopsided smile that was going to be her next sketching project. “I’ll do my best.”
She picked up the pencil and focused on his profile, stubbornly forcing her hand to do what she wanted. And it worked...? Maybe it was her sheer determination, or the kind words Hector had always had for her, but her fingers seemed more obedient that day. A few lines were still too straight for her liking, but lo and behold, her drawing grew softer.
“It’s snowing.” He straightened up on the chair, staring out of the window.
Maddie drew the shadows under his jaw as the snowflakes floated down in a thick flow. Goodness. Her fingers didn’t pain her much. They were a far cry from being painless, but better. “Lovely. Everything will be covered in white soon—where are you going?”
“I have to see it.”
“But I haven’t finished.”
“I’m sorry.” He opened the French door overlooking the garden.
A frosty gust swept inside, disturbing the flames in the hearth and shuffling the pages of her sketchbooks. The smell of wet soil thickened the air.
“Snow. I forgot how beautiful it is,” he said, inhaling.
“Yes, I love it too—what are you doing?” She was repeating herself, but, good gracious, he was unbuttoning his shirt.
“I know I shouldn’t, but I need to feel it on my skin.” He removed his jacket and shirt with one yank, revealing his chiselled torso and golden skin, and dropped his clothes on the portico.
It’d take hours to sketch all his muscles, and she’d be glad to do it. Her mouth became dry. “I…”
A part of her was aware she should turn around and give him some privacy. Another part was too mesmerised by his tanned skin, the taut muscles, and even the scars to care. Just because she was an artist. Her curiosity and eagerness were simply an artist’s desire for knowledge. The tingle on her skin and the quickening of her breath were all about art.
When he unbuttoned his trousers, she should have stopped him, but aside from Verity, who was in her room, and Mary, they were alone in the house. No, that shouldn’t be the reason why she didn’t say a word to stop him. If anything, being alone with him made everything worse and—Lord, his thighs! Thick and muscular. A study in anatomy.
And his backside was...she meant glutaeal muscles. Yes. They were a lesson in sculpting. Perfectly rounded and looking firm. And goodness, even his shaft was proportioned to everything else.
Stark naked, he walked into the garden, letting the snow caress his skin. He spread his arms and reclined his head, exposing his strong neck. The flakes started to deposit on his golden hair, the tip of his nose, and eyelashes. She wished she could draw him now in all his male glory with the snowflakes fluttering around him. His body looked like sunlight lay trapped underneath his skin, and the snow flickered like glittering specks around him. The smile stretching his lips was half celestial, half sinful. Completely charming. He put a spell on her because she could easily believe he was the king of the fairies.
He turned towards her and stretched a hand out in an invitation she couldn’t refuse. She walked over to him as if in a trance. It was definitely a spell because she didn’t like the snow. She liked a snow-covered view. She loved watching the snow from her warm sitting room while sipping hot tea, but not being in the cold and feeling the freezing flakes slipping down her neck or inside her boots. Yet when he took her hand and pulled her closer, it wasn’t cold that made her shiver.
“I want to kiss you,” he said that with the same devastating honesty he said everything, daring the world to tell him he couldn’t speak his mind. He gently brushed a snowflake from her chin. His thumb lingered on the curve of her jaw and caressed her bottom lip. “I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you, when I spotted you painting in your bedroom. You’re so beautiful I can’t breathe when you smile. I want to capture your smile with a kiss.”
“Then do it,” she whispered, her lips already tingling in anticipation.
He dipped his head while cupping her face in his warm, gentle hands. His curly locks of hair fell forwards and stroked her face. His lips brushed against hers in a heated touch warming her whole body. Her nipples tightened, and the urge to press her thighs together couldn’t be ignored.
What would she do if they were both naked? Wilt in his arms? He tilted his head to the side and repeated the soft kiss. She no longer felt the snow on her skin or the cold. His presence shielded her from the frosty air and from the entire world. He transported her to a place where they could be whomever they wanted.
The third time he kissed her, he pressed his mouth against hers harder. They were standing so close their hips touched.
She parted her lips in an invitation he didn’t decline. The tip of his velvety tongue slipped past her lips in a shy exploration. Oh, the shivers. They danced on her skin, making her feel every little sensation the kiss caused to burst within her. He grew bolder and deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his, no longer exploring but claiming. She sagged against him, aware he was fully naked and erect. She was kissing the Savage Duke who was naked in the snow. The contact with his hard length both shocked and excited her. How would it feel in her hand or inside her? He broke the kiss but didn’t move away from her. His lips were half an inch from hers, sharing their heat with her.
“I can’t stop kissing you.” His voice sounded deep and low and started all sorts of illicit tingling in parts of her body that shouldn’t tingle.
She took a moment to speak. “Then don’t.”
“May I kiss you again?”
Her reply was to grip his biceps and pull him closer. His next kiss was all raw passion and dominance. Gone was the shy boy from a moment earlier. He took possession of her mouth with long lashes of his tongue, stroking, teasing, and pleasuring her. Little bites on her bottom lip had her moaning and making sounds she wasn’t aware she could produce. He cradled her head gently while sliding a hand around her waist. He held her up, taking all her weight. If he let her go, she’d float away in the snow. Why hadn’t they kissed like that before? How much time had she wasted doing menial chores when she could have kissed him?
The more he kissed her, the harder his shaft grew. She grabbed his shoulders as a maddening need flustered her. Now she understood his dislike for clothes because she wanted to remove her constricting dress and feel her naked skin against his, sharing heat and passion in the snow.
