Page 52 of Rescued By the Icy Duke
“Perhaps because we are nobility and there are very few things we do that cause us to break sweat. One of those at least is...”
“Intensely pleasurable and satisfying,” Ester almost purred the words.
She felt Julian stirring against her and wondered if it was the words or the tone that he found exciting. He kissed her and she became lost in that kiss, drowning in the feel of his lips upon hers. He was demanding, insistent, but she no longer found herself rendered frigid by memories of Kingsley. Julian had stormed that particular barricade and torn it down. And it was Julian who pulled away, a grimace on his face.
“We cannot. Not until we are married,” he murmured.
“But we already have,” she pouted.
“That was when I believed in the curse. When I thought that my touch had sentenced you to death.”
“So you would turn back the hands of time and pretend that I am untouched once again?” Ester’s voice trembled with both challenge and desire.
Julian’s eyes darkened, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Pretend? No. I could never pretend that. I can see the carnal knowledge in your eyes. No woman with such lust on her face, so burning, so heavy with want—could ever be mistaken for virginal innocence.”
A wicked thrill surged through Ester as she felt how their conversation was arousing him. With deliberate boldness, she pressed her soft hips against his thigh. It brought an exquisite rush of pleasure to her that momentarily robbed her of words. Julian groaned, the sound deep and ragged, before he buried hisface in the curve of her neck, his lips and breath setting her skin aflame.
Ester’s fingers tangled possessively in his hair, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave herself over to the pleasure that coursed through her—starting where his lips met her skin, then flowing down her body in a dizzying current of sensation, pooling between her breasts and lower still, to her navel and to her womanhood. She gasped, unable to control her sharp inhales.
“So, you think me a wanton woman?” she moaned breathily.
“The most wanton temptress,” Julian rasped, voice husky, “And you have bewitched me.”
“I… I must confess, I no longer possess the strength to resist you. Not after having to agonizingly wait four entire weeks to see you again,” Ester murmured sultrily. “Do you?”
Julian did not answer with words, but she felt him shake his head. His hand moved, rough and possessive, until his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp. Without warning, he craned back her head, and his mouth claimed hers with a fierce, unrestrained hunger. Consciousness exploded. Behind closed eyes, Ester saw only starbursts of white that pulsed in rhythm with her pounding heartbeat.
His hands moved with purpose, sliding down to her hips and derrière before gripping her there firmly. His fingertips dug into her flesh, pulling her sharply against him with a force that madeher gasp against his mouth. She felt the pressure of his lust pressing against her until she felt sure that the fabric of her clothes would not be capable of resisting his ardor.
She cried out aloud as she clung to his steely body. Her fingers grew desperate and they tore at his shirt, unbuttoning the fabric until it unraveled to reveal a glimpse of his tight chest. She scratched at his biceps, his shoulders, his bulging pectoral muscles there. She was greedy for the feel of him, wanted to rip away everything he wore. To taste his naked skin, to bite, lick and suck. To bring her name to his lips in desperate need.
Again, Julian drew back, breathing ragged. But this time with a wicked smile. “No. I am a gentleman, and you, my dear,” he traced a finger down her flushed cheek, his touch maddeningly light, “…are a lady. We must behave thusly.”
Ester’s lips parted in disbelief. “Whatever gave you the illusion I was a lady?” she purred, tongue dripping with honeyed defiance. “For you make me feel anything but ladylike.” Her lips barely grazed his neck as she whispered, “Would you not prefer I play your courtesan instead?”
Before he could respond, she spun away, her skirts swirling provocatively around her legs. She skipped down the narrow, twisting path toward the sandy beach, hips swaying with every exaggerated step. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of it heavy, possessive, as though it physically commanded her to stop. But she didn’t.
When she reached the fringes of the stream, she paused, casting a coy glance over her shoulder, daring him to follow. The light of the setting sun painted her skin in hues of gold, and she took a seat on a weathered log, slipping off her shoes.
“Tell me, Julian,” she called out sultrily to him, “do gentlemen always stare so intently while they pretend to uphold their honor?”
As Julian watched from atop the bank, she lifted her skirts higher, revealing the smooth curve of her legs, inch by inch. The cool breeze caressed her skin, but she didn’t waver. Slowly, she peeled away one stocking, letting it slip from her leg and fall to the ground with a sensual grace that sent her pulse racing.
“Is this proper enough for you,Your Grace?” she asked brazenly.
Julian finally stepped forward. He did not seek out the path that she had. Nor did he attempt to climb down the sandy face of the bank. Instead, like some demi-god who defied the laws of nature, he simply stepped off the edge. He slid down the sheer face in a cascade of sand, landed on his feet, and stepped away without a hint of imbalance. His eyes never left hers, dark and smoldering, as he advanced like a predator closing in on his prey, shedding his coat as he went.
Ester’s breath quickened as she rolled down her second stocking. She stood, stepping into the cold water, feeling the shock of it against her skin. Julian waded in after her, boots and breeches soaked, his eyes locked on hers with a hunger that made her blood sing. When he reached her, his hands wereon her hips before she could draw another breath. His arms wrapped about her waist and he lifted her effortlessly.
For a moment, she was held above him, suspended, looking down on a face tight with barely contained desire. Above eyes that were alight with love for her. She traced her fingertips down his harsh, angular face, feeling the rigid planes of his cheeks and the set fullness of his lips. This was, to her, the face of god. The blasphemy of that thought shocked her but she could think of no other way to explain the sensation she felt. Had they been living in the antiquity of classical Greece, she could easily have believed him to be Zeus or Apollo.
“You are making it damn hard to stay a gentleman,” he growled. His eyes blazed with something fierce, something that told her he was done pretending.
“Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling from the chill of the water. “I never wanted you to.”
A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest. His grip on her waist tightened as he lowered her toward the cool waters of the stream, the fabric of her gown floating lightly around her hips as it soaked. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he rasped, his lips brushing her ear.
“Don’t I?” She slipped her hands into his thick hair, drawing him closer. “I want all of you, Julian. No morepretending.”