Page 64 of Dukes All Night Long

“Do you still think I am a good man?” Duke demanded against her mouth.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“And now?” One of his hands coasted up her body and cupped the small mound of her breast. Her nipple pebbled against the friction of his palm in a silent plea for more.

Kate nodded.

“Now?” His fingers dipped beneath the scooped edge of her bodice, slipping her breast free of its cup and bare to the cool air of the room.

Her breath hissed through her teeth as he caught the puckered bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling it until she squirmed against him.

The action only unleashed a new wave of need between her thighs.

Her core went molten as zings of pleasure shot from that secret place between her thighs, to her tortured nipple, and back again.

“Yes,” Kate whimpered. Her head fell back to the wall with a small thump.

Duke growled and the sound was a mixture of desire and frustration.

He lowered his head and closed his sinful lips around her nipple.

She cried out as he licked and suckled her, holding her with his teeth to prevent her from retreating.

Her hands flew to his hair, knotting in the silken locks and holding him there.

Never before had she experienced such sensations.

Her body buzzed with warm, glowing light; she shimmered with the potential of blinding ecstasy.

It made her body do wanton things, like rock her pelvis against Duke’s steady leg and moan his name.

He seemed determined to prove her wrong, intent upon showing her just how wicked he could be—either that, or he was losing all control. Dimly, she considered the former to be more likely because how could she, an untutored woman, cause a man as worldly as Duke to lose control?

He hooked his arms beneath her bottom and straightened, carrying her with him as if she were as inconsequential as a stack of pillows.

His lips crashed upon hers once more and he swallowed her yelp of surprise.

Surefooted and confident, he carried her over to the oversized chaise along the far wall of the room.

It appeared large enough to fit a man of his height and breadth, and, when he dropped her upon it and covered her body with his, she could confirm it with certainty.

The delicious weight of him pressed her into the plush cushion as he nestled his hips into the cradle of her thighs.

The hardness was delicious against the molten heat there, every rub of his body against her sent sparks dancing across her skin.

She couldn’t help it; she spread her legs wider for him, welcomed him, slung her arms around his strong neck and held him to her as their mouths devoured one another.

Kate yearned to feel more of him. She wanted to trace the flexing muscles with her fingertips, test the texture of his flesh, explore the differences between their bodies.

She was utterly mad for allowing him the liberties he was taking with her person; everything about what they were doing railed against the chastity that had been preached to her for her entire life.

Yet, Kate did not care. No man had ever enticed her so.

No man had made her feel this confident, desired, and desirable.

No man had ever made her want to give herself over to him… except Duke.

This man. This dark, dangerous, complex man inexplicably made her feel safe.

Any man who cared for animals and spent a fortune secretly improving Covent Garden for its residents was not as bad as he made himself out to be.

There was something about him…something that warmed her.

And her body screamed for more. Her thighs were slick with her desire as she squirmed to bring him closer.

Something hard and thick pressed against the spot that ached the most and she gasped in a combination of relief and mounting need.

Desperate for more, she arched up into Duke, rocking against him again and again, not caring how wanton it made her.

She couldn’t help it. He unleashed something within her, something feral, and she liked it. She—

“ Kitten… ” Duke groaned, and Kate went still.

Long seconds passed with only their heavy breathing to fill the space between them. He couldn’t have called her that. He couldn’t have.

“W—What did you say?” Kate finally breathed, unsure if she’d heard what she thought she had…whether she could trust her mind while it was still in its thick haze of passion.

Had he called her Kitten ?

No one had called her that since—

“What did you call me?” she asked more forcefully, trying to lift the cumbersome weight of his broad shoulders so she could look into his face. She needed to see his eyes. She needed to look at him when he said it again.

Instead, Duke buried his face in the crook of her neck. He breathed her in as if her scent was the only thing keeping him alive. If he felt her pulse begin to hammer against his cheek, then he made no indication.

He sighed deeply and looked up into her face, his pupils blown wide with arousal.

“Kitten,” he whispered hoarsely, almost regretfully, and Kate was transported twenty years into the past.