Page 15 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

He did not wish her to withdraw. He wanted to be the only one who knew the real Katherine. He wished her to be the only one who really knew him. Let this be a bond between them no one else could ever break or share. Let it be something just for them.

He brushed her hair back across her shoulder.

‘I was not complaining, Katherine.’ Her eyes opened.

‘I like your shyness and your blushes. I treasure them. But I equally like the brash girl who will willingly kiss me back. I hate this thing,’ he whispered, beginning to release the buttons securing her spencer.

‘You wear it every day, no matter the heat. It is as though you hide behind it.’

Her brow furrowed. ‘We are not all wealthy, John.’ She seemed insulted. ‘I have only one spencer, I do not have a choice, unless it is not to wear it and to have more freckles.’

‘Your freckles make me smile,’ he said, while he thought, does she have so little? Phillip’s family were not poor, surely. ‘Take it off.’ The order was probably too harsh as his mind turned over her words, but she did his bidding.

He took off his waistcoat and his neckcloth too, then kissed her once more, banishing their conversation, denying the differences in their status. Here she was only Katherine and he was only John. That was all he wished to think about.

His fingers undid the buttons which secured her bodice, opening it all the way down. The fabric gaped, revealing milk-white breasts spilling over the top of her corset. His fingers pressed within. A catch in her breath answered his touch. He lifted one soft warm breast free from the restraint.

She leaned back on her hands as though she offered herself as his sacrifice.

She was beautiful.

He kissed her breast, gently, honouring that tender flesh.

When he lifted his head and looked at her again, her eyes were darker. They were not really turquoise at all, merely greys which deceived the eye and portrayed blue.

His thumb ran over her nipple and made her shiver.

‘Touch me in return.’ He wanted to feel her hands on him. He wanted her participation, not only her acceptance.

She sat upright, and her eyes fell to his stomach as her palms braced the muscle at his waist, over the thin cotton of his shirt. She smiled as her fingers curved into the cloth and pulled it up, drawing it out of his waistband.

He took a deep breath and let her strip it off.

She chewed on her lip as he freed his head and arms from the shirt. Her eyes and hands skimmed over his torso as he put the shirt aside.

His groin became heavy with need. Leaning forward, he bent over her to unlace her stays. He wanted to feel her skin against his.

‘John…’ she whispered when she was naked to the waist, her gaze meeting his. She was afraid now, he could see and hear that.

‘I will not hurt you. I will do nothing you do not want to.’

His hands cupped her breasts and he kissed her again.

She kissed him back, revelling in everything John did to her as her fingers sifted through his hair.

His touch was exquisitely gentle. His fingers kneaded her breasts and trailed across her bare skin.

She dared herself to touch him too, and let her hands fall to his shoulders.

He was hot and his skin felt like velvet. The muscles across his abdomen were rigid slopes and hollows.

Her thighs rested open about his as he kissed and touched her. Her heart pounded. She craved him with something that was painful misery and blissful hunger, as the tension he had taught her body the day before rose.

The things he did were wicked and wrong, her conscience shouted, but she did not listen. ‘ I think this you is the real you, this reckless girl who has come to tryst with me .’ She had known this was who she was for a long time.

His head lowered and his mouth claimed her breast again, tugging on her nipple as he sucked her gently. Her fingers rested in his hair as the place between her thighs, where he touched her yesterday begged for attention.

‘John, please.’ The words came out as a tortured sound.

His head lifted and he smiled as his fingers slid her skirt and petticoats upwards. Her fingers shook as she held his bright crystalline gaze as she released the buttons of his waistband. He did not stop her. She did not stop him.

His hands slipped beneath her petticoats and brushed her inner thighs.

Shivering, she instinctively moved forward to sit flush against his body.

She did not dare touch him where she wished to.

But she pushed his trousers and underwear down, and held his hips, her fingertips pressing into the first curve of his buttocks as he kissed her deeply, his tongue penetrating her mouth, as her breasts crushed against his chest. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world to be so close to him physically.

When his thumbs skimmed over her she arched against him, longing for him to do the things he should not. ‘John.’ Her voice gave another plea.

He kissed her cheek, her chin, her neck. ‘I will not take your virginity.’

She did not care if he did, she longed for him to do it.

He touched her, there, between her legs, his thumbs gently caressing and she widened her thighs, urging him closer.

‘Let me take off all your clothes.’

Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t even known she had shut them.

She nodded.

He helped her stand, and her body trembled as he stripped the garments from her hips. This was utter madness and yet it was complete heaven too.

He kissed her again and his hands gripped her buttocks, his fingertips pressing into her flesh.

When he ended the kiss his hands slid down her thighs and then lifted her back onto the table. In a moment he was between her parted thighs again, naked skin against naked skin. He could do anything now but she trusted him not to break his promise. She wished he would.

‘Touch me,’ he whispered as his hands pressed her legs wider and he set himself against her. When she did not, he took her hand. ‘Like this.’

It had not been cowardice preventing her, just a lack of knowledge. Now she knew.

He moved his hips, sliding against her as he came through her hand.

The movement was like a chant, or a charm, repetitive and mesmerising. He watched. She watched too, aware that her skin had pinked. Her gaze lifted to his face. She was not sure who she was doing this with, John or the duke. But she did not care, she loved them both.

Her fingers clung tightly about him, and his breathing changed then his thumb moved across her thigh and rubbed and pressed her sex.

‘John.’ She only said his name because she needed to make some sound. Her free hand clawed into his shoulder.

Was it only yesterday she had refused the bonnet he gave her and sent it back for fear he was buying her favours? Today she was giving them freely, wantonly, desperately.

His gaze lifted and despite his stiff expression she saw need in his eyes – hunger.

She pulled his mouth to hers.

He kissed her aggressively as the pace of his movements quickened. She felt his urgent determination for himself and for her as his thumb pressed hard against her.

A delicious ache swelled and overflowed inside her, submerging her in a wave so she could no longer kiss him, and her fingers clung to his hair, while he worked through the grip of her other hand, until he cried out, and then stilled. She felt him throb and there was warm liquid.

Her muscles trembled when their kiss ended, and she hugged him close.

He was trembling too.

He picked up his coat and found out a handkerchief to wipe her hand.

Meeting her gaze, he picked her up, bracing her legs about his waist as he carried her to the only chair in the room, a single leather armchair.

John knew his grandfather used to come up here and just sit in silence. Now he understood his grandfather more, John guessed the old man had built this and come here for the same reason John was here, to escape the dukedom for a while.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, sitting down with her astride his lap. ‘I ought to put you in a box and keep you. I could take you wherever I needed you then.’

‘And when I am in need of you?’

‘You may put me on a chain about your neck and I shall be your servant.’

‘You are talking nonsense.’

‘Being here is nonsense.’ His afternoon of dalliance suddenly soured.

Doing this was beyond foolish. It was ridiculous escaping and hiding here with a woman who could never be anything to him beyond this.

She was no courtesan, nor was she one of the she-wolves of elite society. She had been his childhood friend.

He cast the thought aside. He refused to rationalise this, and he refused to think of consequence, or future. This was about escaping.

‘Being here is folly.’ She smiled and yet he could see his words had let reality encroach into the room. She knew as well as he did that she should not be here. ‘Did you choose the location for that reason?’

If she was trying to make him laugh, she did not succeed. He kissed her instead, his fingers gripping her upper thighs. He was hot again and aroused in moments.

He liked the way her lithe body curved and undulated against him when he kissed her. There was no falsehood or facade with her. Every motion was instinct and natural need.

Her slender fingers braced the sides of his head as she kissed him back, while the apex of her thighs pressed against his groin.

It would be so easy to bury himself inside her and take her completely. He would not, but he broke the kiss and said across her lips, ‘Shall we go for a second round?’

She nodded, her teeth biting her lower lip. Then she said, ‘You are very bad, now, are you not? As a boy you were well behaved.’

‘My grandfather taught me how to be bad. He was a very good teacher.’ If it was self-mockery, he hid his emotions now too well for her to see. ‘But if I was really bad, Katherine, you would no longer be a virgin.’

Her eyes shone. ‘I am bad too. I shouldn’t be here. But I choose to be…’

‘You should be. I have wanted you like this since the day of the funeral.’