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The duke's touch is pure electricity, and if I move, the moment will break. He'll stop. And I'll—
The sound of the limousine pulling up shatters the air around us, and when I open my eyes, the duke is moving past me, toward the door, reaching his hand out for Maddie's, like nothing happened at all.
God.
I'm in so much fucking trouble.
28
Eva
I'm being hunted. Stalked. There's no other word for it. The duke follows me with his eyes no matter where I go in the house. It starts when I get into the lake with Madeline.
His eyes are on my form, my modest swimsuit feeling like the most transparent mesh as if he can see right through it. His gaze burns over my skin worse than the sun's rays.
At dinner, he toys with his food, barely eating, and leaves his glass of wine untouched. He's silent, and I am too. Madeline talks enough for all of us. It feels like the world is whirring past the duke and me while we're locked in place. We're standing still, the planet moving while we play out a silent battle.
He's willing me to look at him. Daring me. His eyes score my skin with marks invisible to anyone but him.
He wants me to return his heated gaze. I'm doing everything but, instead, focusing on the sun and sky, the lake shores, and the waters. Anything to get away from the subtle, silent pressure he's got me under.
But deep down, I know that I'm about to break. The way he looks at me. This time is different. It feels different. He's not the same man, and I'm grown up now. I know myself better. Don't I?
That's why I'm not surprised when Madeline goes down to sleep for the night, and the household of servants have gone to bed, I find myself drifting into the lake house's kitchen.
Looking for someone.
Begging to be found.
This is the most beautiful mistake.
The room is dark, only lights from the outside deck letting me see by. This whole house is open-plan, more modern, and rockstar-like than the formal and ancient walls of the great house.
This means I'm visible, alone and vulnerable, standing by the kitchen island.
His scent, of clean soap, thick paper, and a hint of crisp denim announces itself a moment before his warmth as he crowds behind me. His hands slip over my hips, and I stop the gasp from escaping.
We are quiet shadows, in this big house, nothing to see here.
No one to be seen by.
His hands trace up my body, wrapping around my wrists loosely. I've changed into my night-dress, a simple cotton dress suitable in case Maddie wakes up. But with his touch on me, it feels like I'm wearing something provocative.
Something dangerous.
My clothes are a threat and one the duke seems determined to put to rest. He pulls at my nightgown, slowly slipping it up my hips, up my waist.
I can't breathe, staring out the windows. Lights flicker across the wavelets on the water, as he reveals every inch of my body, thin fabric falling to the ground at my feet.
I'm naked in front of him, in this dark place, but it feels like I have every spotlight on my person. I rock back on my heels, and feel him behind me, grounding and rock-solid. His chest is firm, under a thin, open button-up, and his jeans' denim pulls rough at my underwear.
He turns me slowly, and I can't hide from him anymore. His eyes drag down my body and I feel like it like a physical touch.
"Take off your panties for me," he commands, and my cheeks burn and tingle.
"I—"
"Eva." He's not asking. His eyes are so intense that I feel like they'll burn the fabric off of me if I don't push them down. My fingers hook in the elastic waistband and he lets out a pained exhale of breath, stepping back to watch me fully.
