Page 36 of Never Dance with a Duke

He sank onto the bench beside her, his heat enveloping her at once. Without a word, he drew her back against his chest and pressed a kiss to her crown. “Forgive me if I overstepped. I seem to forget myself when I’m with you. I’m completely under your spell, Nicolette.”

A watery chuckle escaped her. “And I with you.”

Whenever she was in his arms, the world felt right.

Relaxing into Mathias’s sturdy strength, she angled her head, looking up at the sky. Though it was a cloudless night, few stars were visible because of London’s many lights, and the new moon wasn’t noticeable at all.

With one finger, he turned her chin toward him, their eyes meeting.

Searching. Seeking. Speaking what neither had dared to voice.

And call her a fool, Nicolette closed her eyes and raised her mouth. Silently inviting him to give her what she craved, more than oxygen or food or water.

Not a heartbeat later, he settled those marvelous lips upon hers.

And he did everything he’d promised during that tantalizing dance, and more.

So much more.

She turned into Mathias, sliding her arms around his back and clutching him to her, letting sensation and desire take over.

“Nicolette, my sweet darling.” He groaned low in his throat, and a thrill shot through her that she’d brought him to this state.

He kissed the sensitive place below her ear, and she angled her head to allow him better access. Who knew a kiss in that particular spot could pebble her nipples and cause dampness to gather in the cleft between her legs?

In this blissful moment, she didn’t care that this was unwise.

Perhaps, utterly foolish.

That it might lead to heartache and regrets.

I love him. I love him. I love Mathias.

She craved Mathias’s kisses. Wanted his embrace and wanted to feel his muscles bunching and flexing beneath her palms.

“Permit me to call on your brother tomorrow,” he whispered into her ear.

That brought reality crashing down upon her, and she drew back, that old uncertainty and fear assailing her as she searched his face.

“Why?”

To ask for her hand?

A merciless vise clamped her heart.

Yes... No... Yes.

How could she concurrently long for something and yet be utterly terrified of that very thing?

Mathias’s raven eyebrows flexed into a momentary frown before his face cleared.

“Nicolette, you don’t think I’d kiss you like this if my intentions were not honorable?” He lifted her hand and pressed firm, warm lips to the inside of her wrist. “I wish to pay my addresses, to court you, and if you are agreeable, make you my duchess, because I—”

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” drawled a droll, sardonic voice.

Her former betrothed.

God, why now?