Page 29 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

Isaac breathed in through his nose. “Well, if you do not intend to follow my rules, I shall not trouble myself to follow yours. Why should I? I think perhaps you want me to break your rules, Charlotte.”

She blinked rapidly. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Isaac leaned back a little, his gaze suddenly languid, his eyes half-lidded.

“I think you know exactly what I mean. Rules are such flimsy things, I suppose.”

She lifted her chin again. “I think I would like you to leave now.”

He reached out, slowly as if taming a skittish deer, and his knuckles gently brushed the curve of her cheek. The touch was barely there, light as a feather, but it sent heat flushing through Charlotte’s body even so.

“You think you would like that, do you?” he whispered softly. “Say it, then.”

Charlotte opened her mouth, entirely sure that she was going to tell him to get out of her washroom and to never, ever barge into her private rooms in such a manner again.

She really had intended to tell him to leave.

Instead, when Charlotte opened her mouth, nothing at all came out. Not a word. Not a whisper.

A slow, wicked smile spread over Isaac’s face.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured softly. Then he leaned in, in quite a leisurely manner, and pressed his lips against hers.

Charlotte clutched at the front of her sheet, desperate not to let it fall.

Every inch of her body felt as though it were on fire.

When she felt his hand cup her hip, deliciously warm and heavy through the sheet, she felt something twang inside her, like a harp string.

The tip of his tongue traced out the seam of her lips, but when Charlotte inched her lips apart to allow him entry, he pulled away.

She gasped, the noise loud in the quiet room, and blinked up at him, confused.

“I don’t understand,” she blurted out.

His eyes were shadowed, and Charlotte seemed to have trouble thinking of anything beyond the desire pulsing through her.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her flush against him.

Just for an instant, she felt something warm and hard pressing against her, but before she could think twice about it, he angled his hips away with a low, wry chuckle.

“We wouldn’t want this to end before it begins, would we?” he whispered.

Charlotte frankly had no idea what he meant, but before she could ask, he reached down and grasped the wet hem of her drying sheet, sliding his hand underneath.

Questing fingertips danced over the warm, damp skin of her thighs, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.

His other arm still around her waist, Isaac pulled her close, pressing his lips against the side of her neck.

She could have sworn that she felt a pinprick of teeth there, so fleeting that she might have imagined it.

His fingers danced upwards, up and up towards the join of her legs.

Is he going to touch me there ? Charlotte thought dizzily. There was no question about whether this was something a proper lady would allow. She was pointedly not going to consider that question, not even for an instant.

“When I am finished with you,” Isaac murmured, his voice a low growl coming from the depths of his chest, “you will want to do everything I say.”

“I’ll never obey you,” Charlotte snapped back, with more determination than she had thought herself capable of. “Let that be made clear.”

He chuckled, a warm sensation against her neck.

“No touching, indeed,” he whispered. At that moment, his knuckle brushed the part between Charlotte’s legs, sending a fiery jolt through her body.

He gave her no time to recover or to adjust to the new sensation, instead beginning to slide his fingers up and down her silken folds, a languid rhythm which seemed to spark something inside her, peaking higher and higher.

Still grasping her drying sheet with one hand—Charlotte was not entirely sure why the drying sheet was so important to her modesty at this point, only that she did not want to realize it—she flung her other arm around his shoulders to steady herself. Already, her legs were threatening to buckle.

She could hear Isaac’s rough, rasping breathing in her ears, growing more labored. She could hear her own voice, with breathy gasps and sighs, filling the otherwise silent washroom.

She could hear the slick sound of his fingers between her thighs, moving more quickly but with undeniable expertise. Something was building inside her, something which felt unstoppable yet also impossible, something which knotted up her breath in her throat.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Charlotte pressed her forehead against his shoulder, and damp locks of hair fell forward around her face.

“More, Isaac, please ,” she gasped, a little horrified to hear the words stuttering out of her mouth.

“Come on, then, Charlotte,” Isaac whispered, so quietly that she barely heard him. “Let go, for me, can’t you?”

Her climax hit her in a shuddering rush, a dizzying peak of pleasure which left her shuddering, clinging to his shoulder. For one awful moment, Charlotte was entirely sure that she was going to collapse.

She did not collapse, however, thanks to her own grip on Isaac’s shoulders and his arm around her waist.

“There you are, you see,” Isaac murmured, pulling back with a lazy grin. “Mine to command.”

He released her and paused, glancing down at the hand that had touched her.

There was a slickness about his fingers, and she watched, spellbound, as he pressed his forefinger and middle finger against his tongue.

He held her gaze as he did so, and she saw amusement glimmering in the depths of his single blue eye.

Charlotte sat down with a heavy splash , not caring that the drying sheet was now soaked.

She glanced up at him, her vision still wobbling just a little.

“You … You are insufferable,” she managed.

He chuckled. “So I have heard.”

Charlotte pulled her lower lip between her teeth. What came next? What about him ? Already, however, Isaac had turned away, drifting towards the door.

Is he simply going to leave after that?

“Ours might be a marriage of convenience,” he stated, his tone distant, “But there is no reason why we can’t enjoy our wedding night, eh?”

Charlotte breathed in. Back to business, then.

“No. Absolutely not. I …” she trailed off, and he shot her an odd look.

“Why not? Why set such a strict rule, Charlotte? I have already shown you how much fun it can be. Why not try the full game?”

Charlotte swallowed, meeting his gaze squarely. “I do not want children of my own.”

Something shifted in his face. Confusion, perhaps? Surprise.

“I do not want children,” she repeated, more firmly this time, “and nothing can change that. Not even what you have done tonight. This… incident must not be repeated. I was weak, but I will not be weak again.”

There. She had said it. She had told him the truth, or at least part of it. Now what?

He eyed her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Very well,” he responded brusquely. “It shall be as you wish.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked out the door, pausing to close the washroom door behind him.

Charlotte was left alone, sitting in her cooling bathwater, and struggling to understand just what, exactly, she had done.