Page 9 of Kiss the Duke Goodbye

Nevertheless, Clarissa Marlowe, standing in the doorway of her charming cottage, a gown the hue of week-old red roses swimming down her slender body, her expression bold and scared witless at the same time, had done something to him. A weak-kneed something.

A violent twist to his heart—when he’d scurried to Clerkenwell for twists to be done to his cock.

Desiring to protect as urgently as he desired to seduce was a rather novel sensation.

And,ah, hell,did he want her.

Aching, blinding need. Groundswells of yearning he hadn’t confronted in this lifetime.

Knox thought it rather generous that he’d offered to delay taking her to bed when he’d dreamed of that blessedly divine event formonths. Getting a glimpse of her pleasure, in any manner, would be enough for now. He hoped.

When he stepped between her legs, spreading them as much as her skirt allowed, she welcomed him by parting her lipsbeneath his. He tilted her head just so, wanting this to last for eons, a piece of the puzzle he’d often hurried through. She was quite the best kisser, amazing when he suspected she’d not had much opportunity to practice.

Some things, he guessed, merelywere.

She’d better not have learned from that dolt Clarence.

Fearlessly, she circled her tongue around his, urging him intoherrhythm—a dance, a race, an age-old battle. She tasted of tea and the faint hint of cinnamon, and he was lost. They fell into a sensual abyss, sending the ground shifting beneath his feet. He groaned and cradled her jaw, possessing, seeking all she would give. Her breasts were a plump delight against his chest, her hands resting on his shoulders, one rising to seek out the hair at the nape of his neck. To coil the strands and scrape his scalp. Her breath streaked down his throat, her sighs mixing with the slight rise of her body to reach him.

How would it be, he marveled,when she was beneath him, astride him, gazing over her shoulder as he pleasured her from behind?

He struggled to contain his enthusiasm at the visions.

Impatient, he lifted her exquisite gown and thin chemise—a shocking surprise, the frock, when she’d answered her door looking like a goddess—in fistfuls until he had more clearance to settle between her legs. He desperately longed to nestle his cock against her supple folds while making her cry out in ecstasy.

When he’d promised an introduction, he meant a thorough one.

The kiss got away from him, as the impromptu match in her shop had, and he forgot his place, his plan. His fingers tunneled through her hair, pins slipping to the floor, her chignon tumbling free, before he remembered he was taking this slowly.

She flinched, putting space between them, reaching for her disheveled twist. “Knox.”

He tipped her chin until her gaze met his. Her eyes were a dewy, smoky gray, inviting him to ruin her. To ruin himself. “There you go, love. At last, my name on your delicious lips.”

She let a streaking sigh whisper free, her arms falling to her side. “Is this play?”

He hesitated, understanding the precipice he stood upon. A gaping, thunderous next step loomed before them. She had no idea how much her awakening would change her. How much inducing her awakening could changehim. “No, love, it isn’t play. Not the kind I had in mind, in any case. Although it’s amazingly perfect this marvelous, astounding kiss, if that’s all we ever do.”

“If I agree, play is as far as it goes this day?” She patted her chest, drawing his eyes to the breasts rounding out her bodice most pleasingly. He couldn’t wait to tease her pert nipples until she was breathless with need, should he be allowed the honor. “The rest will truly be my choice?”

He shoved aside his brief irritation that she would think she didn’t have sovereignty over their rendezvous. Over her decisionorher body. Then he recalled the restrictions placed on women in their world. They didn’t choose their husbands or manage their own finances. They couldn’t vote or voice opinions without being ostracized. Clarissa Marlowe was as independent as any chit he’d ever come across—and he’d best remember this if he wanted to keep her for even one second.

Pressing his lips tenderly to hers, he curled his hand around her waist and brought her against him. “I’m here because I’m drawn to you more than I’ve been drawn to any woman. Because I have not, since I stumbled into your shop with Damien while he sought out the artist he’d soon marry, been able to expunge you from my mind. There aren’t any nefarious motives involved aside from my remarkable need for you. I want you gasping, calling my name while your mind blurs and your body melts. Iwant your juices to coat my skin, your taste my throat. I want pleasure for you, more than you’ve ever dreamed to experience, by my hand. But I would also like to know what’s in your mind, in your heart. The passions that make you,you. I can’t promise not to hurt you or hurt myself. I’m only doing what I’ve been unable tostopmyself from doing.”

He kissed his way to her ear and whispered softly, “Buying bonnet upon bonnet was only a way to seeyou. My time before I have to—”

He halted, frowning, the curse riding the back of his throat.

Before he’d be forced to marry for money, not love.

Clarissa’s smile softened, the heart he wanted a glimpse into opening to him. She took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. And he tumbled. Where, exactly, he wasn’t about to examine. “Let’s play, you arrogant cur. I’m ready to learnandteach.”

Agreeing, he kissed her.

Until she began to warm to him again. Until she pressed her body to his in invitation and sighed deeply, asking for more without saying a word.

Hooking his arm around her hips, he brought her bottom to the edge of the desk, releasing the skirt he still clutched about her waist. It was simple maths after that. She wore no petticoat, and her drawers were dispensed with swiftly, leaving her core beautifully bare to him, although he didn’t look. Not yet. As her scent rose to tease him, he untied her garters with one hand, aware the deft move showed years of practice. Leaving the ribbons dangling against her creamy thighs, he went to his knees to roll her silken stockings down her legs. She had lovely ankles and beautiful, slim feet. He hoped he could hide the fact that his hands had begun to shake, his cock hardening to the point of pain against his trouser’s bone buttons.

This level of hunger wasn’t part of the games he’d played before.