Page 43 of Claiming His Lost Duchess (The Dukes of Sin #8)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

J oan had expected Graham to carry her to her own bedchamber, but instead, he took her directly to his own room, setting her directly onto the bed.

“From now henceforth, this is your room too. I hope that you will spend more time here, than away from me for any reason,” he told her gently as he sank to his knees to take of her shoes.

She smiled at him, reaching out to run her hand through his hair, startled by how… easy it was to be affectionate.

“No more running,” Joan promised.

He smiled up at her, the intensity of his gaze made her feel simultaneously cherished and desired. The intoxicating combination sent heat spiraling through her body as her veins filled with yearning.

“Are you certain?” he asked softly, his dark eyes searching her face with careful attention.

“After everything that has passed between us these recent days, I will not press you if you have any doubts whatsoever. We can simply... talk. Hold each other. There is no need for anything more unless you truly wish it.”

The consideration in his voice, the way he put her comfort above his own obvious desire, only reinforced everything Joan had come to understand about this remarkable man she had married.

In response, she reached up to cup his face in her hands, marveling at the slight roughness of his jaw beneath her palms and the way his breath caught at her touch.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” she whispered, her thumbs tracing the slight swell of his cheekbones. “I want this, Graham. I want you. I want us to truly begin our marriage as it should have begun months ago — with honesty and trust and love.”

His sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room, and then his mouth was on hers with a hunger that spoke of days of restraint and careful distance.

Joan met his passion with her own newly acknowledged feelings, her body responding to his touch as it always had — as though they were two parts of the same whole that had finally been reunited after far too long apart.

Graham's hands moved to the fastenings of her dress with the practiced ease and she sought to show him that he was just as desired.

Her own hands began working at the buttons of his waistcoat and the intricate knots of his cravat, both of them laughing softly when their eager efforts became tangled together.

“I have missed you,” Graham murmured against the delicate skin of her throat as her dress pooled around her feet in a mess of green silk. “These past days have been absolute torture — living in the same house, sharing meals, yet feeling as though you were a thousand miles away from me.”

“For me as well,” Joan breathed, her head falling back to give him better access to the sensitive curve of her neck. “I thought perhaps I had ruined everything between us. I was terrified that my words had done damage that could never be repaired.”

“Never,” Graham said with fierce conviction, his hands spanning her waist as he lifted her carefully back onto the high bed. “You could never ruin this, Joan. What we have — what has grown between us — is stronger than any misunderstanding, any moment of doubt.”

The afternoon light filtering through the tall windows cast everything in golden tones, and Joan felt beautiful under Graham's adoring gaze.

He worshiped her body with hands and mouth as though she were something sacred, reacquainting himself with every curve and hollow, every place that made her gasp and arch beneath his touch.

But there was something different in his manner today — a reverence mixed with his passion that spoke of deeper emotions than mere physical desire.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her collarbone, his voice rough with want. “So perfect. I still cannot quite believe you are mine.”

“I am yours,” Joan replied, her own hands exploring the familiar rise and dip of his shoulders and back, relearning the feel of him after days of careful separation. “Completely, utterly yours, as you are mine.”

Graham lifted his head to meet her eyes, and Joan saw something vulnerable and almost hesitant in his expression that made her heart clench with tenderness.

“There is something I wish to try,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an uncertainty she had rarely heard from him. “Something we have never done before, but only if... only if you are willing and feel safe with me.”

Joan's pulse quickened with curiosity rather than fear.

In their previous intimate encounters, Graham had always taken the lead with gentle authority, guiding their lovemaking with the same confident command he brought to every other aspect of their lives.

She had never minded — quite the contrary, his assured touch had made her feel cherished and protected.

But there was something in his expression now that intrigued her deeply.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw.

Graham reached toward the drawer of his bedside table, his movements careful and deliberate.

When his hand emerged, he held a length of silk cord — the midnight blue color it possessed making it look utterly alluring, soft and obviously expensive.

Joan's breath caught as understanding began to dawn, though not in the way she might have expected.

The sight should have frightened her, should have brought back memories of her uncle's crude advances and his attempts to overpower her through force and intimidation. Instead, she found herself curious, even excited by the implications.

This was Graham — her Graham, who had never hurt her, who treated her with reverence and care. Whatever he was suggesting would be born of love and trust, not dominance and cruelty.

“Only if you wish it,” Graham said quickly, clearly interpreting her silence as reluctance. “I would never ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable, Joan. If the idea distresses you in any way — “

“It does not distress me,” Joan interrupted, surprised by her own certainty. “I trust you, Graham. Completely and without reservation.”

Graham's smile was soft and understanding. “I want to ask something else of you. Tell me what you want, every step of the way.”

Joan frowned. “I do not understand…”

Graham guided her to lie down with her head placed directly beneath the head board.

Then slowly, he began to secure her wrists to the carved headboard with knots that would hold but not cause harm.

Her breathing deepened as he worked, the pride at her wholesome trust in him evident in every line of his powerful body as she yielded herself to him completely.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked once the bonds were secure, his fingers trailing her arms to test the tightness.

“Perfect,” she replied, her voice already thick with want and a touch breathless.

He nodded and told her seriously, “O know it might not seem like it, but you are in control now, Joan. Everything we do, every touch, every kiss — it is entirely your choice.”

The knowledge that she held such power over him was intoxicating in a way Joan had never anticipated.

She had spent so many years feeling powerless, at the mercy of her uncle's whims and society's judgments, that to have Graham — strong, commanding Graham — completely at her command was heady beyond description.

Even though she was bound, she felt powerful, especially when she met his gaze.

So, she licked her lower lip and urged, “Touch me.”

He wasted no time carrying out her command, his warm hands making her gasp as they landed on her torso in a firm press, pushing up until he had her breasts in his hands.

She arched into his grip and he gave her more, letting his hands roam about, exploring each rise and crevice of her body, as though he was learning her body anew.

His touches burned in a way that felt immensely good, causing her to strain against her silken bonds and when she gasped, “Kiss me,” he obliged without a shred of contemplation or hesitation.

“Graham,” Joan groaned when he pressed soft kisses along her throat, her voice high with need. “Please...”

“Tell me what you want, my love,” he whispered, taking her earlobe between his teeth gently. “I won’t know unless you tell me, my love.”

She groaned in frustration, straining against her bonds as she worked up the courage to state her demand.

“Please,” she exhaled. “Please, I want you in me.”

“How? How would you like me to do that?” he asked her gently, his nose brushing against hers as he littered every inch of her skin he could reach with kisses.

She thought about screaming at him to do whatever he wanted, but then she had an idea.

“I want to do it. I want to be in top of you and do it.”

He stared at her for a moment, then he grinned deeply kissing her.

“Your wish is my command.”

It only took a moment to undo the binding that kept her hands to the head board, but the ties were still around her wrist, which she did not care about as she mounted him.

When she finally took him into her body, it was a little strange and she wondered if this had been a wise idea after all.

But when she began moving above him, her confidence began to grow and as did grace, Joan felt more powerful and more feminine than ever before in her life.

To see Graham beneath her — this man who possessed so much influence — lost to sensation and completely dependent upon her movements was intoxicating beyond measure.

“You are magnificent,” Graham managed between harsh breaths, his hands clenching the sheets helplessly in a bid not to touch her or influence her movements. “So beautiful, so perfect. I never imagined... Joan, you are incredible.”