Page 54 of Duke with a Desire

Still, the sheet silhouetted her body. Her nipples protruded, hard and rude. Because she wanted him still. He was naked and virile and his cock was already beginning to stand at attention, and she was mesmerized by how beautiful he was. She wished the bed would open up and swallow her, with all her shame.

Prestwick pulled at the sheet. “Making amends. Since you didn’t know it was me giving you pleasure the first time, I’ll have to try again.”

Again? The needy flesh between her thighs pulsed and grew heavy. Her body cried out for more. Her mind told her absolutely not. She wasn’t sure which would emerge the victor.

“You needn’t,” she protested, breathless.

“No?” He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the curve of her breast, then turned to her, his blue-blue eyes dark and stormy with desire. “On this, we shall have to disagree.”

His mouth closed over her nipple through the sheet. He sucked.

Her breath fled her in a hot stream. Her clitoris throbbed, desperate and overlooked. She pressed her thighs together to stave off the sensation, but that only seemed to heighten the need.

“Prestwick, you can’t,” she protested weakly.

He released her nipple but hovered over her, his gaze searing. “Why not? And do call me Apollo. I should think we know each other well enough for given names now that you’ve come on my tongue.”

“Oh, sweet heavens,” she murmured helplessly. “You do certainly prefer plain speaking.”

She wondered what his mother would think of his wicked tongue but thought better of asking. The duchess was quite a notorious prude.

“Why do you protest?” he asked. “We’ve already pleasured each other. What harm is there in another time? And another…and another…”

She clamped her thighs together even harder.

“Because it’s wrong.”

Holding her stare, he flicked his tongue over the distended peak of her breast. The sheet’s presence was a source of instant frustration. She wanted that tongue on her directly. Her skin seemed to have been made for his mouth and touch. A barrier between them wasn’t good enough. But she didn’t dare release her hold on it.

“Does this feel wrong, Ophelia?” he asked before catching her between his teeth and lightly nipping.

A sharp twinge of desire went straight through her.

“Oh God,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

It didn’t feel wrong. It felt incredible. It felt like something she’d been longing for her entire life and had never known existed. It felt like heartbreak, which was precisely what she faced if she continued to loll about in bed with the Duke of Prestwick. She was too old for these games. And she had children. She had an overbearing brother-in-law to fear. She was not made for naughty house parties and the indiscriminate taking of lovers.

“Phee,” Apollo said softly, affectionately.

She couldn’t open her eyes. Couldn’t bear it.

A hand cupped her cheek, warm and large, sending a jolt of awareness unlike anything she’d ever felt through her. “Phee, look at me.”

How could she deny him? He was so gentle, so sweet.

So young. She mustn’t forget that. She had lived a lifetime, whilst he had been a young, handsome rake every woman desired, sowing his oats and falling in love and posing naked and wooing gorgeous actresses. The reminder of Mrs. Gilpin soured her mood.

Ophelia opened her eyes. “No one calls me that.”

“I do now.” He caressed her cheek, his expression earnest, as he rubbed his whisker-stubbled jaw over her breast, making her wish she could feel the abrasion directly.

It felt somehow unbearably intimate, the thought of a name that was his alone for her. As intimate as his mouth on her. As intimate as their bodies were, almost entwined yet again.

“Apollo,” she protested, her grip on the sheet becoming loose. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” His grin returned, his eyes glittering. “We already have once.”

“We should not have.” And the evidence was now running down her inner thigh, yet another reminder of her folly.