Page 8 of The Duchess’s Absolutely Delightful Dream (The Notorious Briarwoods #14)

He let out a hiss of a breath, losing all his resolve, yet still clinging to the last vestiges of it. “This very morning, they warned me—”

“Warned you, did they?” she gasped, indignant. “About what?”

“It was a bit of a two-handed thing.”

“Explain that to me,” she said, narrowing her fiery eyes. “I feel as if I’m going to have a headache any moment, trying to sort it out.”

Octavian cleared his throat. “I’m rather charming,” he began.

“Are you?” she asked, her lips twitching with amusement at his attempt at sounding humble. “Are you certain about that?”

“Yes,” he confessed, amused by her amusement. “And they know it, and they thought I could charm you and make you smile and perhaps lift your heart a bit.”

“Oh, I see,” she said softly.

“But there was this definite indication that I was to maintain my proper distance.”

“Och, bother that,” she replied. But then her irritation evaporated, replaced by a dangerous playfulness. “And what exact distance would that be?” She took a step towards him. “This distance?”

He could clearly see what she was about, and he immediately understood that he was dealing with a formidable and intelligent woman who was going to turn his life into absolute bliss one moment and hell the next. And yet he did not have it in him to turn her away, or to turn and run himself.

No, he couldn’t. He had to stay. Some infernal part in him willed his boots to lock to the floor.

“I don’t think that’s exactly the distance,” he managed.

“What about this?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Not that either,” he growled, his body hot now, his blood aflame with anticipation.

“Oh?” she said, her brows rising. “And this?” she queried, her pink lips parting.

She closed the distance between them, letting her chemise brush his breeches.

“Better.”

She took another step closer, their bodies now kissing as their lips longed to.

“You’re not wearing enough clothing,” he pointed out, aching to slip what she had on from her perfect body.

“Well, how much clothing exactly should I be wearing?” she teased.

“According to your brothers, no doubt about fifty layers.”

“Bother my brothers. It’s summer, Octavian, not winter.”

“Do you wear fifty layers of clothing in the winter?”

“It’s Scotland,” she said. “But it’s not winter now.

In fact, I find myself far too warm. I’m tempted to divest myself entirely of my garments, just to watch you quiver with shock and horror and not know what to do next, even though it’s clear to me you absolutely do know what to do with a lady without her clothes on. ”

She shook her head, then began to slide back. “But I can see that you are also a man of honor, who does not want to upset my brothers, which leaves me rather disappointed.”

“And unhappy?” he blurted.

She tilted her head to the side. “What?”

“Would it leave you unhappy if I were to suddenly depart and not kiss you?”

She sucked in a soft breath, apparently marveling at his logic.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Very unhappy. Very unhappy indeed.”

“Then I would be going against what I said I’d do, and I can’t have that,” he said, his voice a low rumble even to his own ears.

Oh, he was on dangerous ground. Dangerous, delicious ground. Luckily, as a soldier, he was familiar with it, and he had no intention of retreating now.

The power of a duchess was no small thing. And the power of being a young woman who was no longer on the marriage mart flowed through Ellie’s veins. As did her desire for Octavian. A few years ago, she never could have dared do such a thing as invite a man into her rooms.

Nor would she have wished to.

But she was free now. She had not become free by choice, but by fate.

And in her freedom, she had the sort of independence that only some women knew.

Now, she could embrace hedonism. Pleasure.

Sensuality. All because she wasn’t a blushing, innocent young lady trying to win over some man so he would make her his bride.

Since she’d been married, innocence was no longer something she had to aspire to.

She aspired to far different things now. Octavian could help her with those desires.

So, the playful banter between them sparked her need and urged her to dare. Dare to finally fulfill what her body had been made for.

Bliss.

His eyes shone with hunger, yet she could see the conversation in his head, deciding if he should dare.

And he did.

Octavian’s sensual lips parted as he gazed down at her. There was a moment of transformation when he chose. Chose her.

His hands slid to her chemise covered waist. Gently, he tugged her to him, arcing her body against his hard frame.

She gasped, startled at the feel of his muscled body. This was exactly what she wanted, but it was a surprise. A new experience.

Tentatively, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders as her damp hair danced over her back.

He pulled her up until she was on her tiptoes, and then he swooped down, stealing her mouth with his. From that first brush of his warm lips, her thoughts shimmied away, replaced by feeling.

Her heart skipped, rushing along in a wild beat. Her skin tingled.

He explored her back with his firm, strong hands, sliding upward with one and down to her bottom with the other.

Kiss after kiss warmed her, seduced her, teased her into opening to him. As her lips parted, his tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing her.

The shock of it was thrilling.

It seemed mad that such a thing was pleasurable, but it was! Oh, how it was. Soon, her tongue was tangling with his, and the nature of their kiss grew more intense. Her hips, of their own accord, pressed towards his.

He groaned against her mouth. The sound sent a wave of primal need through her.

He’d made that sound for her.

Pride and satisfaction rolled through her, and she slid her hands to the nape of his neck, driving her hands into his hair. His hold tightened, arcing her back as he kissed her over and over.

The slow build of it quickly transformed into an inferno of hunger.

And as his hand cupped her bottom, pressing her into the hard length of his shaft in his breeches, a moan escaped her lips.

Abruptly, he pulled back and sucked in air.

His eyes were dark. “You are…”

“Yes?” she breathed.

“There aren’t words. I…” He swallowed, then gently extricated himself from her embrace.

“Why are you ending this?” she whispered.

A breath shook from him, and he plowed his hand through his hair.

“Ending?” he echoed. “For now.”

A good man, he strode to the door, clearly clinging to his control. “I think we have only just begun.”

As he headed into the hall, she hoped so. Very much.