Page 245 of Dukes for Dessert

She tilted her head. “What do you want?”

“To comply with my ducal duties with a woman I like.” His expression was beseeching. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I have no ducal duties and I’m never getting married,” she replied evenly. “But we’re not talking about me. Let’s get you sorted first. How are you currently searching for a bride?”

“I visit Almack’s.” He gave a self-deprecating scoff. “And then stand there like a marble column.”

She winced. “That might be the problem.”

“I’ll probably do the same thing at the party.” He glared over her shoulder at the empty space in the middle of the room. “No matter how fancy my billiard table might be.”

“All right.” Carole rolled back her shoulders. She could do this. They could do this. “Let’s make a plan. Bride-hunting can’t be harder than the Excise Officers Allowance Act of 1812.”

His eyes widened comically. “You were listening to me?”

She nodded. “Now listen to me. This is what we’ll do. When the table arrives, I’ll teach you how to play billiards… and in the meantime, I’ll show you how to flirt with the ladies.”

“In return,” he said slowly, his expressive eyes not leaving hers, “I will do the same for you.”

She blinked. “I already know how to play billiards.”

“But do you have much experience with men?” The expression in his dark eyes was stormy. As though he would fulfill his ducal duties as required, even if part of him desired a woman who could never be a duchess.

A woman like… Carole.

“I’m not looking for a husband,” she said carefully.

“Who said anything about marriage?” His brown eyes were serious. “Just because I must select a Society wife doesn’t mean you have to give up your freedom.”

“Ha.” She pulled a face. If only that was a luxury she possessed. “Freedom to what?”

“To enjoy yourself.” He stepped closer. “Like you said, I’m limited to future duchesses. You can do as you please.”

Her throat went dry. Perhaps he, too, despised the thought of her promising herself to someone else. Perhaps he, too, wished they could ignore their divergent futures, just for a moment. Even if it could never be more than make-believe.

She licked her lips. “What would you do if you could do anything you wished?”

His gaze fell to her parted lips. “Do you want me to tell you or show you?”

“Show me.” Her heart pounded defiantly but she didn’t glance away.

Satisfaction glinted in his eyes. “With pleasure.”

Then his hands cupped her cheeks and his lips covered hers.

Marble column? He was big and hard and strong, but there the comparison ended. His lips were warm on hers, gentle but firm. His thumb stroked her cheek so lightly she doubted he even realized he was doing so. Yet every caress sent flutters of desire through her belly.

When she opened her mouth to tell him so, to confess she was one mere kiss away from throwing all caution to the wind, his tongue swept inside to claim her. An electrifying bolt of desire shot through her. She felt every nudge, every lick, throughout her entire body.

She pressed herself against him to muffle the arousal tickling her skin, but the opposite occurred. With her bosom against his chest and his hands deep in her hair, their kiss was no longer tentative but a tidal wave of emotion that had just been waiting to be released.

All the times she’d glanced over at him beneath her eyelashes and wondered what it would be like to taste him? She was tasting him now. Gorging herself on his kisses. All the times his hand had brushed hers, all the brief “accidental” touches, all the times he had almost kissed her but held himself back? He wasn’t holding back now. He was taking, demanding, giving, pleading. Two souls caught in a tug-of-war between we shouldn’t be doing this and I never want to stop.

When she gasped for breath, his thumb stroked her cheek.

“Do you want me to stop?” His lips brushed hers.

She wrapped her hands about his neck. “Aren’t you supposed to disregard what I want, shove me against the closest wall, and have your wicked way?”