Page 36 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

The mistletoe leaves rustled against her side, then along her rib cage… She caught her breath when they brushed over the side swell of her breast, followed only a heartbeat later by the warm of his hand.

He caressed her gently, first drawing light circles with his fingertips, then teasing his thumb over the hardening nipple beneath her clothes. He moved so slowly in his touches that she knew she could stop him at any moment with only a whisper, that he would immediately drop his hands away if she did.

But an aching and anguished part of her didn’t want him to stop.

He cupped her breast through her bodice and held her still as he lowered his mouth to trail his lips over the bare skin above her neckline. Then he moved lower, placing a delicate kiss to her breast through the muslin and sparking a flash of electricity inside her.

“Michael…” Clara wasn’t certain when she whimpered his name if she managed to speak it aloud or if the desire that had begun to lick its way over her flesh had fogged her mind to the point that she no longer knew reality from fantasy. Just as she wasn’t certain if she cared which as long as he kept touching her.

He slowly brushed his mouth back and forth against her bosom. Even though layers of her clothes rested between his lips and her bare flesh, her nipples ached as if she wore nothing at all.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered and carefully slipped his fingers beneath her neckline, to free a single breast from her corset and shift. Pleasure at the sight of her darkened his face as he rasped out, “So very beautiful….”

This time when his head lowered to her breast, there was nothing to keep his hot mouth from touching bare flesh, nothing to keep his tongue from laving her nipple and his lips from closing around her.

Clara closed her eyes and arched herself into him, to beg him to take her even deeper into his mouth. She wanted to forget the pain of the last two years and let herself be consumed by his strength and solidity. She wanted to crawl into his arms, let all the tears fall until none remained, and then find a way to build back everything that was stolen from—

The mistletoe scraped lightly against her bare flesh.

The sensation jolted her, and her eyes flew open as the reality of where she was and what they were doing crashed over her. The tropical air contrasted against the wintry night outside until the silver moonlight become nothing more than distant fantasy, the snow blanketing the silhouetted hills and trees nothing more than stark whiteness. And she nothing but a fool for wanting what she couldneverhave.

“Michael, stop.” Her hand flew up to the necklace she wore around her neck to make certain it was still tucked deeply inside her bodice and out of sight, despite the bareness of her breast. She couldn’t have borne the embarrassment if he’d seen it! She gave a ragged sigh of relief. Then her hands that had been pulling him to her before pushed at his shoulders now to move him away.

He stilled. His mouth remained on her chest for a long moment before he slowly lifted his head to search her flushed face.

She twisted out of his arms, no longer able to bear the torturous pleasure of his kisses.

“Clara?”

Her cheeks heated with self-recrimination as she quickly straightened her bodice and properly covered herself. But her flesh was still warm and tingling where he’d kissed her, her heartbeat still racing, the ache between her thighs still softly pulsing with every rapid breath she inhaled.

“If I did anything to—”

“You didn’t.” She snatched the mistletoe from his hand, stripped off the berries, and tossed them away. “That must have been eight kisses at least.” Her voice sounded overly bright, and she dropped the sprig onto the table. “I don’t think we have to worry any more about courting bad luck, do you?”

He said nothing, but she didn’t dare glance at him to try to read his thoughts. She was too afraid she’d lose her resolve and beg him to kiss her again.

She pulled in a deep breath and wiped her fingers over her skirt to brush away all traces of mistletoe. If only she could wipe away her troubles as easily. “I’m tired. I’d like to go to my room now. Would you please call for Thomas?”

Silence stretched for an unbearably long moment before he answered, “I can take you upstairs myself.”

The last bit of strength went out of her, and her shoulders sank. Blinking hard, she whispered, “I couldn’t bear that, not after…”After you kissed me as if you still loved me, as if you still wanted me.“I’d like Thomas to take me upstairs.”

“You said you didn’t blame me for the accident.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away.”

“I’m not.”

“You won’t let me kiss you—”

A bubble of hoarse laughter escaped her. “That was more than just kisses!”

When he didn’t challenge that, she darted a hesitant sideways glance at him. The consternation that darkened his face took her breath away.

“I know,” he answered quietly. Then he shoved himself to his feet in agitation and raked his fingers through his hair. “For God’s sake, Clara. You can’t keep punishing me for something I never did. God knows I’ve already punished myself enough, when all I did was love you.”