Page 33 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

“What?” She stepped closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her blue eyes. “What were you going to say?”

Owen shook his head, unable to voice the fear that had driven every one of his decisions since Evie’s arrival.

“I thought I could keep my distance,” he said instead. “Let you build your own life with Evie while I handle the threats from outside.”

“And now?”

“Now I realize I was a fool.” He reached up to touch her face. His fingers trembled slightly against her cheek. “Now I understand that distance doesn’t protect anything. It just leaves the people you care about vulnerable to danger.”

“Owen—”

He couldn’t find words for everything he wanted to say. Couldn’t explain the terror and hope warring in his chest, or the way she made him want things he’d spent years convincing himself to be impossible.

So instead, he kissed her.

It differed entirely from their desperate encounter in Morrison’s library. This kiss was slower, deeper, with less hunger and more revelation. It felt as if with every press of his mouth against hers, he confessed something neither of them dared to say aloud.

She melted into him immediately. A soft sound escaped her throat as her hands fisted in the lapels of his coat. It was like she feared he might pull away.

But Owen had no intention of pulling away. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever.

His hands skimmed along her waist, and he found the fastenings of her gown with surprisingly steady fingers. Though inside, he was anything but.

Her lips moved against his own with sweet, searching urgency. Her small sighs unraveled him. The blue silk slipped from her shoulders and slid down her body like water, pooling around her feet in a soft sigh.

She stood before him in only her chemise and corset—angelic and wicked all at once.

He paused to take her in. The delicate cotton clung to her curves, translucent in the lamplight, teasing more than it concealed. His fingers itched to touch her, to worship her.

“Are you certain?” he asked against the tender skin at her throat. His voice was barely above a whisper, even as his hands found the laces of her corset.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.” Her fingers found the buttons of his waistcoat. Their movements were clumsy with eagerness. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Her corset joined her gown on the floor, and her thin chemise followed with reverent care.

She stood bare before him, and the sight stole his breath.

Then, he lifted her into his arms, unable to resist, and she gasped softly, as she pressed eager, open-mouthed kisses to his throat that made his knees tremble.

He carried her to his chambers with his heart pounding and laid her carefully on the bed.

Moonlight filtered through the window, casting her skin in silver and shadow.

She looked like temptation incarnate—all flushed, luminous, and real.

Every fantasy he’d tried to banish before was now brought to vivid, exquisite life.

When he joined her, skin to skin, heat to heat, it was almost too much.

He cupped her face in both hands reverently, as if she might vanish. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he memorized the way she looked with her hair mussed, her eyes luminous, and her lips kiss-bruised and parted in anticipation.

“You undo me,” he whispered while brushing his lips over hers.

She leaned into the kiss and her breath was soft against his jaw. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “But I want this. I want you.”

His heart twisted. The honesty in her voice, the openness in her eyes—it shook him to his core.

“You don’t have to know,” he murmured while kissing the hollow at the base of her throat slowly and languidly. “You only have to feel.”

He took his time exploring her with his hands, lips, and tongue. Each touch was a question, each kiss a promise. His palms skimmed her ribcage but paused just beneath her breasts as if asking for permission.

Her breath hitched, but she arched into his touch. That was answer enough.

He kissed down her throat and over the curve of her shoulders as well as the swell of her breasts.

She made a sound then, soft and startled, that tugged at something deep inside him.

Her hands found his shoulders, his arms, tentative at first, then bolder, mapping the shape of him with delicate fingers that made his pulse race.

Her skin was velvet beneath his hands. She was warm, alive, and trusting. And she wanted him— him. Not a title. Not a role. Only him.

When he moved to hover above her, bracing his weight on his forearms, their eyes met. Her lips parted. Her breath came in shallow gasps and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. But her gaze held no fear. Only trust.

“This will hurt at first,” he said softly while brushing her temple with his lips. “But I’ll be careful. I’ll go slow.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer.

He kissed her again, lingering reverently, as his hand slipped between them. His fingers sought her center, and he found her already wet and trembling for him. He teased her pearl in slow, steady circles, coaxing a sigh from her lips and a shiver from her thighs.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “Let me feel you melt for me.”

Her body softened under his touch. When he slid a finger into her, she moaned. The sound was so sweet and raw that it nearly shattered him.

He worked her gently until she gasped his name and clutched him with shaking hands. Then, when she was ready, he positioned himself at her entrance and began to press inside.

She stiffened slightly and dug her nails into his back.

“Easy,” he whispered while placing a kiss on her cheek. “Breathe, Iris. Let me in.”

He kissed her again as his fingers returned to her pearl, stroking it lightly, coaxing her body to relax. And when it did, he eased forward, sliding into her inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside her.

She gasped, and he went still, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was hoarse with restraint.

Her eyes fluttered open. She bit her bottom lip, then gave a breathless nod. “I want more. Don’t stop.”

He began to move, slowly and carefully. Each thrust signified a slow proclamation. Her hips rose to meet his, so the rhythm grew and deepened between them.

Her gasps turned into moans. His name left her lips like a prayer.

“You feel like heaven,” he groaned as he pressed kisses to her face, neck, and breast. “So tight, so sweet. God, Iris…”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper. Her hips moved with his, her body chasing each thrust, until she was whimpering with need.

“Yes… right there… Owen, please?—”

He angled his hips, and she shattered. Her inner walls clenched around him in tight, desperate pulses. She cried out and her body bowed beneath his, wild and radiant in ecstasy.

The sight of her undone— for him —tipped him over the edge.

With a strangled cry, he thrust once more and spilled inside her. He became lost in the blinding heat of release.

He collapsed beside her with his chest heaving and gathered her into his arms. Owen buried his face in the curve of her neck as their bodies trembled in the aftermath.

Then, they lay tangled together. Iris’s head was on his chest while he drew patterns on her bare shoulder. She was quiet for so long that he thought she might be asleep, so he spoke into the darkness.

“Iris.”

“Yes?”

“We’ll protect what we’ve built. All three of us, together.”

She hesitated. “And if Richmond discovers the truth about Evie?”

“Then we’ll face it together.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No more secrets, no more distance. Whatever comes, we face it as a family.”

She lifted her head to look at him and he could see how serious her eyes were in the dim light. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

When she finally drifted off to sleep, Owen remained awake, watching her breathe in the circle of his arms.

For the first time in his adult life, he wasn’t planning for disaster or calculating risks.