Page 28 of Enchanting the Duke

He drew her gently to the edge of the bed and sat, pulling her onto his lap.She giggled at the sudden shift, then stilled when his arms came around her, strong and sure.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and her heart seemed to slip its moorings.She let her hands wander, finding the shape of his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, the soft line where his hair met his neck.

He undid the fastenings at the back of her dress with deft, patient fingers.Each one was a tiny declaration, a promise that he knew what he was about and would take all the time she needed.When the bodice loosened, he paused, waiting for her to decide whether to move forward.

She did.She shrugged the sleeves from her shoulders, the fabric whispering down her arms.Gabriel watched, reverent, as more of her was revealed—first the pale skin of her clavicle, then the delicate rise of her breasts, pressed together by the stays beneath.

He traced the hollow of her throat with his lips, working his way down until he reached the laces of her stays.He made quick work of the ties, loosening them enough that she could breathe—really breathe—for the first time since morning.

She exhaled, and he laughed, kissing her bare shoulder.

The chemise beneath was soft, almost sheer, and her nipples pebbled against the linen as the cool air found them.Gabriel grazed them with his palm, slow and deliberate, and the jolt of sensation made her gasp.

“Is that all right?”he asked, voice thick.

She shivered.“Yes.More than all right.”

He explored further, running his hands over her waist, her hips, learning the landscape of her body as if it were a map he intended to travel for years.He kissed her neck, her shoulders, the edge of her jaw; he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in like she was the air he needed.

She lost track of time, of everything but the heat between them and the rush of her own heartbeat.

When he slid the chemise from her shoulders, she resisted the urge to cover herself.Instead, she looked him full in the face, daring him to find her lacking.

He did not.He gazed at her as though she were a work of art, something rare and dangerous and precious.He cupped her breast, thumb circling the nipple until she arched into his touch.

He lifted her as easily as if she weighed nothing, and set her gently in the center of the bed.The sheets were cool at her back, but she did not feel cold.She felt alive.

He stood above her, undressing himself with less ceremony.His shirt, his cravat, his trousers, each discarded with a casual grace that made her ache to touch him, to discover whether the muscles of his arms were as solid as they looked.

They were.

He lowered himself to the bed, bracing his weight on either side of her.He kissed her, tasting her from lips to chest to belly, each inch an adventure.

She fumbled at the waistband of his drawers, laughing at her own ineptitude, and he covered her hand with his, guiding her as she pushed the fabric down.

What she found—hard, hot, urgent—made her heart stutter.She wrapped her hand around him, tentative, and Gabriel made a noise so primal it thrilled her to the core.

He kissed her again, this time with his whole body, pressing against her until she could feel every ridge and line.His hands moved between her legs, finding the slickness there, and he groaned against her neck.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said, his voice rough.

She nodded, but did not want him to stop.

He slipped a finger inside, slow and careful, watching her face for signs of discomfort.Instead, she found herself straining toward him, greedy for more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.“So perfect.”

He worked her with his fingers, building pressure until she thought she might shatter.The fire, the flowers, the sensation—it all blurred together into one bright, impossible now.

When he finally entered her, it hurt—a sharp, quick pain—but he soothed her with kisses, with words she could not fully hear, and the pain faded, replaced by a fullness, a rightness, as though she had always been meant to have him there.

He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust, then faster as she wrapped her arms around him, holding on as if the world might tilt and send them flying.

She felt the pleasure build, crest, crash over her like a wave.She moaned his name, and that was all it took to send him over the edge.

They lay together, tangled in sheets and sweat and laughter, the room bright with morning even as the day slipped toward dusk.

He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her, hair wild, eyes gentle.