Page 10 of The Governess Teaches A Duke (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #34)
Chapter Nine
M aribel was breathing heavily by the time she reached the haven of her room.
Was it due to her quick steps or the maddening company of the duke?
The emotions he had stirred in her were almost unnatural—urges she had never felt before, only heard of.
His voice had caressed her as if his hand had been stroking her.
His gaze had made her pulse quicken, his broody grey eyes seeing straight through her soul.
The desire that had pooled in her belly was as exciting as it was alarming, and the compulsion to place her hand between her legs was almost too hard to ignore.
Even the tips of her breasts were enraged, her nipples hardened pebbles.
Shaking her head and arms, Maribel tried to rid herself of these sensations.
Focus on how angry he made you , she scolded herself!
The way he watched me like I was some succulent dish.
The superior tone that constantly reminds me of our difference in class, no matter how well-mannered and cultured I may be .
She shook her head, knowing it was not all quite true.
He was genuinely attentive and curious about her.
And she could not help but see his own indecision when responding to her.
They were caught in a dance that had no choreography, no sheet music.
Each step was on instinct, baited with emotion and reaction.
Slipping off her shoes, she began to pull at her skirts when there was a very faint knock at her door. She could not bring herself to ask who it was—she knew it was him.
“Maribel.” The quiet demand was clear through the wooden barricade separating them.
She opened the door and looked up at him, attempting to keep composed, not wanting to give him any satisfaction.
“Did you forget to tell me something, Your Grace?”
He rested his hand on the doorway, shifting his weight as he looked down to meet her gaze.
“I did, Miss Lewisham. This.”
He bent his head and captured her mouth hotly.
No person had ever pressed their mouth against her own, and the duke’s full lips covered hers like a well-fitted glove.
Instinctively, she closed her eyes. and flashing lights sparked against her eyelids as he let her lips go before taking them again, more roughly this time.
He placed his hands at her waist and pulled her close, so her curves now pressed against the hard expanse of his body. His mouth captured and released her own with a skill that was controlled and reckless all at once.
“We mustn’t, Your Grace,” she murmured, but made no attempt to move away.
The space between her legs was now throbbing, and it was not her own hand she had the urge to place there, but his.
Without realising, she had begun to grind her pelvis against his.
He moaned and swore against her mouth, lifting her up slightly so she could feel the hardness between his legs.
Her hands, which had been limp at her side, now held his arms for balance as his kiss deepened.
His tongue was in her mouth, again duelling with her—this time not with words, but with deft strokes that were setting her body aflame.
Abruptly, she felt him pull away, holding her at arm’s length as they both panted wildly, trying to regain their breath.
“Miss Lewisham, I am so very sorry.” He may have said the words, but he did not look sorry. He looked frenzied, his grey eyes a raging tempest as he gripped her arms tightly.
“I think I should retire, Your Grace.” Her voice was faint, all that she could muster amid the confusion of this unexpected and fierce exchange.
He let go of her arms but did not speak, still staring at her with a wild look in his eyes, and while it excited her more than scared her, common sense made her spin on her heel and close the door.
Quickly changing, she got into bed and pulled the blankets over her head so she could relive what had just happened.
She found she was trembling as the effervescence slowly left her body.
She had oft wondered what it would be like to be kissed.
Never in a thousand years would she have thought her first kiss would be with a duke—a man that was equal parts infuriating and enticing.
His kiss had left a burning imprint on her still tingling lips.
His tongue had been inside her mouth, and her own inside his.
She sucked on one of her own fingers. The sensations that had erupted deep in her loins were the most pleasant of all surprises, and she cupped herself with her other hand, feeling the pulsing of her femininity.
Her heartbeat was slowing down to a normal pace, and she laid her hands on the bed.
Sleep was eluding her, but she knew it would come as she allowed the replay of what had transpired to wash over her again.
She would fall asleep, yes, but her last thoughts before sleep took her would certainly be of Thomas’s lips.