Page 11 of Never Love a Duke

Ignoring her remark, he held up a small sack in his hand as his feet moved him closer to her position on the bed. “I’ve got some ice. You should put this on your ankle. It’ll help with the pain.”

The closer he came, the more restless she felt.

It was all well and good and all, thinking that she might get to spend just a little bit more time with him when he came back to her room, but now that he was here, and her heart was pounding out a rhythm that seemed more like the message of a loud drum in the jungle, she couldn’t remember why she thought this was a good idea or how she might have planned to get out of it should her brain recall how to function and make wise decisions.

“Mirabelle, just breathe. You look like you’re about to faint. Are you all right?” His hand came to her forehead, which if hadn’t been heated before was now a blazing inferno from his touch.

“I’m fi—not sure.” With great effort, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps my foot is in more pain than I thought.” She deflected everything to a focused point. A tangible ache. Not like the one hidden. The one she was completely unfamiliar with.

“Here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and placed the small sack over the fabric of her dress.

“Is it supposed to feel cold? I can’t feel anything.”

Both of their gazes careened toward her covered ankle. Not a breath. Not a sound.

Just…waiting.

He cleared his throat. “May I?” His large hand lingered at the hem of her frock and she nodded, permitting him to lift the fabric.

Her quick intake of breath lured his eyes back to her face. Another moment passed in a locked gaze, and something passed between them. An exchange of unspoken words. Questions. Agreement. Concessions.

“Do you feel that?”

“Uh huh.” She felt it all. Like her heart was about to explode. This man held her heart in his hand and could do whatever he wanted with it because she yearned to give it to him. Her shelter.

“Is it cold enough?”

“Huh?”

“The ice.” His voice was low as he tilted his head toward the foot of the bed.

A large hand wrapped around her ankle that was not cold at all. And the ice? There was nothing cold about this moment. Her body was desperate to be lit. Just one tiny spark would do it.

“Uh huh,” she squeaked out, because she couldn’t say anything else. Her mouth was watering for him. Craving his kiss. Longing to have his hands on her again. It had been far too long since their first kiss, and she thought she just might implode if nothing happened.

It was all too much. Greene House. The spinster sisterhood. The robbery. The explosion. Everything. She needed some reprieve. Some release. Something.

“Gabriel,” she finally managed to say. And her eyes must have said more because then his free hand snaked into her hair, tilting her head back, open and ready for him to consume her.

“Mirabelle,” he rasped just before he kissed her.

And it was like her body picked up exactly where they had left off last time. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Ankle forgotten. Everything forgotten. It was only them. Him. Her. His arms locked around her, drawing her closer to him. Her legs on either side of him. Frock forgotten. Piled up at her waist.

“I need this,” he grumbled.

Her heart expanded ten times, bursting out of her chest. He needed her. And she wanted to fill that need because she needed him, too.

What was this draw? This connection. This tethering she felt toward him, despite everything. Perhaps in spite of everything. She had seen many sides of him and still yearned for him.

“Gabriel,” she mewled his name. Beckoning. Aching.

His hands grabbed her bottom, pulling her over his hardness and she sobbed her relief at the contact. Exactly what she needed.

The feel of him between her. Hard strength.

His mouth drank in her neck. Nipped at her ear. Sank down her chest and lapped at the tops of her breasts. With both hands, she turned his face up to hers and drew his bottom lip into her mouth. His tongue slid over hers and her breath hitched as he explored her. Leaving no space untouched.

Her body rocked over his length, feral for more.