Page 46 of How to Tempt a Duke

His shaft strained against his fitted breeches and blinded all logic in his mind. He’d been a fool to allow so much time to elapse since he’d last had a woman. Too much of his focus had been spent on acquiring accolades and foreign treasures and not enough care had been paid to his person.

Everything in him begged he make up for the oversight now, with this pliant beauty in his arms and her wild vein of passion he’d helped unveil.

Charles trailed kisses down her chin to her slender, graceful neck and gently nipped the area just behind her jaw. Her moan hummed in his ear and sent pleasure rippling through him.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Needed more.

He needed her.

He should not, and yet he did.

His thoughts splintered apart his rationale and his lips wandered down the delicate line of her collarbone, lower still to the enticing swell of her bosom. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she gave a quiet gasp when his lips grazed the low neckline of her gown.

More.

He tugged gently at the silk until it slid low enough to reveal the tempting pink of one partially exposed nipple.

“Charles...” Eleanor whispered, her voice throaty with desire.

He didn’t know if it was encouragement, but she kept a tight enough grasp on his head for him to be held in place and to assume it was not a protest. He pressed his thumb just above the pink nipple, popping it free from the confines of her stays, and closed his mouth over it.

Eleanor drew a sharp intake of breath and clung to him.

He held her more tightly, pressing her firmly against him, and drew the tip of his tongue around the pert nub. Her body writhed against him, implying that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

And, God, did he want her.

No. Need. He needed her. So much so he was swollen to the point of pain.

A single thought floated to the forefront of his mind: her innocence. Its loss would pull away the rest of life’s opportunities for her, the way it had for Lottie.

No. Eleanor had need of a husband and it could not be him—not when adventure called to his blood, when he had unmet promises to fulfill.

Charles straightened and pulled her neckline back into place. “Forgive me,” he said raggedly. “I forgot myself.”

Eleanor glanced down, her lashes hiding not only the brilliance of those green eyes but also her emotions. When she looked back up her thoughts were closed off to him.

She lifted her head with the haughty elegance she’d exhibited weeks before. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, thank God.”

Her brow lifted. “I don’t understand.”

“Eleanor, that couldn’t have gone further.”

“I believe it could have.”

He stared at her a moment, stunned beyond wit and words. “I’ll not strip you of your virtue. Especially not when you are seeking a husband.”

The small muscles of her neck tensed and she gave a stiff nod. “I understand.”

She lifted the journal from where it had fallen on the ground, forgotten in the blaze of passion.

“I believe I will read through this on my own, as the key does not appear to have revealed any secrets to us.”

He caught her hand and could not help but sweep the pad of his thumb over the incredible softness of her palm. “Are you sure you wish to do this? What is within those pages is not anything a lady ought to read.”

She drew her hand from his. “I am not as fragile as you believe me to be.”