Page 50 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke
“Did I not tell you earlier not to come back here?” he growled, stalking towards her.
All his senses were keenly attuned to her now—the sight of her in that diaphanous robe. The subtle fragrance of her that heated his blood. The sound of her breath coming out in soft gasps. The warmth that seared him from where he stood.
All that was left was the taste of her in his mouth, on his tongue.
She looked up at him warily. Her pink tongue darted out and traced her bottom lip—a nervous habit, he presumed.
A deliciously nervous habit.
“I-I could not sleep,” she murmured, her wide gaze meeting his. “I-I thought I would take a walk…clear my head a little…”
She backed away from him just the tiniest fraction, but it was enough to unleash that untamed part of him that Charles had spent the better part of his life keeping under rigid control.
He reached his arm out to her, his palm open and upturned.
“Come here, Phoebe.”
He half expected her to turn and run. To go back to the manor and to the safety of her bedchamber.
He gathered that he looked rather frightful as he stood right now.
When she slid her smaller hand into his, he felt a feral grin trace itself across his lips. His fingers closed over hers and he gave her a swift tug that sent her stumbling onto his chest.
Hisbarechest.
“I shall show you what happens when you disobey me one too many times, dear wife,” he growled.
His fingers sank into her thick, luxurious mane at the back of her head as he tilted her head up to meet his fierce and demanding kiss.
If he was going to burn, then he was going to burn withher.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Phoebe wasshockedto say the very least.
She had never seen a man without his shirt before—except for those statues of Greek gods and heroes. She had never thought that any man could looksogood outside of their clothing that for a moment, all she could do wasgasp.
That one small sound had been enough to catch the topless man’s attention—which now led to her being pressed up against the wall, her lips being plundered so fiercely that all she could do was moan and do her best to kiss him back.
Well, I have been wanting him to kiss me again. I certainly am not complaining when he does it out of his own free will!
As she threw her arms around him, anchoring herself to his more stable, solid male hardness, she could feel his hand boldly drifting from her head to her neck and down to her shoulder.Lower still, until it settled on the curve of her hip where she felt his fingers digging into the voluptuous flesh.
His lips trailed hotly down her neck. When his warm breath fanned across her already heated skin, Phoebe let out a slight shudder.
“Temptress,” he whispered huskily against her skin. “Do you have any idea how you torment me so?”
She let out a soft, breathy laugh. How could she—the gangly, awkward Townsend sister—ever be deemed a temptress?
But she found that she could not form the words as his hand had climbed up from her hip to her ribcage, his thumb drawing lazy strokes on the underside of her breasts.
“Charles…” she whispered feebly, her voice trailing off into a surprised moan when she felt his hand upon her breasts.
“You have been a very naughty girl, my dear,” he growled. He rubbed the turgid peak of her nipple and Phoebe arched with a soft cry, wantonly pressing her chest into his hand.
Beneath her fluttering eyelashes, she could see his lips curve into a roguish grin that was so very different from the cold and stoic Marquess she thought she had married.
“You shall learn what it means to cross lines,” he rasped against her skin, as he continued to tease and torment her breasts through the thin barrier that the fabric afforded her.