Page 61 of How to Capture a Duke

“And what is that?”

“To feel seduction.”

Seduction. Just the word on her lips made his skin grow tight. One little tug on her shift and he’d see her breast. He’d felt the lush fullness through her clothing and he longed, more than air to breathe, to caress the naked flesh. Take her nipple in his mouth and suckle until she begged for more.

Sweat beaded on his brow. “Olivia.”

“I know what Lord Jeffries said. That you do not want children. But I want to be with you.”

He wanted to be with her, too. God, how he wanted her. He glanced at the decanter and glass. “How much did you drink?”

“One whisky. I am not foxed.”

She wasn’t. Her eyes were clear in the candlelight. Still, was she aware of the affect she had on him?

“You may not be drunk, but you still don’t know what you’re saying. You’d regret it tomorrow.”

Rather than be dissuaded, she reached out and ran a finger down his chest. “No. I won’t.”

The simple touch was like a brand on his skin beneath his clothes. It was as if what he’d sworn not to touch had become what he must have.

Madness.

She licked her lips, and they glistened in the candlelight. “I’m not leaving here tonight. Or the next night. I don’t think you want me to leave, either.”

She was bold and sassy and oh, so beautiful. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a gift, but she was a gift. A treasure.

“Take care, duchess. You play with fire.”

She slipped a finger between the buttons on his shirt and gave a slight tug. It was akin to lighting a match to dry tinder. He lowered his head, hesitating for the briefest moment before swooping down to capture her mouth.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, an equal match. It fueled his desire, and any attempts to resist her vanished along with his stark need.

This was desire. Nothing more. He could do this, give her what she needed and greedily take what he wanted without changing anything.

One hand sank into her silken hair, holding her captive for his kiss, while the other slid down her back and cupped her pert bottom. She filled his hand perfectly, and a low growl sounded from deep in his throat.

“Olivia.”

“Yes,” she said then released a breathy sigh. “Yes, Tristan.”

He pulled her flush against him. Through her thin nightgown, the softness of her body molded perfectly to his hardness.

He tore his mouth from hers to trail kisses down her neck to the sensitive lobe of her ear. He’d wanted her for so long. If he were honest with himself, he’d wanted her since she’d kissed him by the stream that very first time.

A need burned hot within him and threatened his iron control. “I want to see you. All of you.”

“I want to see you, too.”

His fingers reached for her, but she pushed him away and moved to the silk tie that closed the top of her gown. He watched, fascinated, as the knot loosened, and the fabric gaped to reveal inches of smooth, satiny skin. Then he nearly moaned as she reached down to pull the entire gown over her head, and the silk slipped from her fingers to slither on the bed.

The candlelight cast a lovely glow over her nakedness—her lush breasts with dusky nipples, the flat stomach, the flare of her hips, to the golden curls at the juncture of her thighs.

His voice was gruff. “I’m thankful you came.”

“You are?”

“I’m thankful you are here in my chamber because I’m finally going to touch you everywhere, to kiss you everywhere, at last.”