Page 69 of Duke of Rath

“Good God, Duchess…” he murmured. “If you’re writhing like this when I touch you through clothes, how will you writhe when⁠—”

He stopped abruptly and breathed into her neck, just holding her. She felt something hard and hot between his legs pressing against her stomach, the mysterious bulge she’d felt before.

“When…what?” she asked through hungry gasps of air, her body still swimming in the pleasure he’d just brought her.

“Nothing,” he mumbled and let go of her, to her disappointment.

“Well, aren’t I breaking rule number two?” she asked. “Something about no wifely duties? Shouldn’t I be…um”—heat broke through her skin—“punished?”

He exhaled sharply, his dark gaze on her. He swallowed hard. “No wifely duties have been executed, dear girl. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh…” She swallowed, too.

Heavens, how could she get him to do that to her again? How could she convince him to touch her as he had with the spanking…and that other night when he’d made her body soar. She wondered if she could do the same beautiful things to him as he did to her.

“What are wifely duties, exactly?” she asked.

He closed his eyes tight, breathing harder. His arm was pressed against the wall behind her, and he crushed the heavy curtain into his fist.

“Goddamn, woman, you’re the biggest temptation I’ve ever had to resist.”

She bit her lower lip. She was closer, perhaps? “Why?”

He opened his eyes. They were dark and penetrating, and she felt pinned to the spot. “Because I’ve never wanted to break my own rules like I want to do now.”

“Oh…” she murmured, feeling a satisfied smile spread on her lips. “So you do want me to perform the wifely duties?”

His glare intensified, his nostrils flaring as he breathed quicker. “There’s nothing in this world I want more.”

“Well… Why don’t you let me, then?”

A pained expression crossed his face. “I’m hanging by a thread… And, believe me, my restraint is for your own good.”

“I do not even know what wifely duties are,” she said. “How would I know what not to do? Do you not think you ought to…teach me?”

“You know not what you ask,” he ground out, voice raw. “I am not a gentle lover.”

“And I’m not a flower,” she said. “You’re mistaken if you think I am.”

She wasn’t the naive girl who had come to this house. She wasn’t yet someone like him, so decisive and certain in what he wanted. Perhaps she wasn’t yet a true duchess. But she knew she wanted him, and she wanted this marriage.

He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, the pained expression intensifying. “You are most certainly a Rose.”

She grinned. “Why, was that a jest, my lord?”

“You bring out the most surprising things in me, sweet girl. Branches I thought dried and broken off a long time ago.”

“They didn’t die,” she said as she cupped his angled face with her palm, her calloused thumb brushing across his high cheekbone. “I can still see them. Let me revive them. I’m known to have a green thumb.”

He groaned but stood still, just working his jaw as though in pain.

She needed to nudge him only a little. Just one tiny nudge, and he’d cave.

She didn’t know what it might be but thought perhaps it was in the region of her breasts, which he’d seemed to enjoy kissing and touching just a moment ago.

Never breaking eye contact, she pulled the neckline of her dress down slightly, exposing more of her breasts to him. “Rest assured, whatever those forbidden wifely duties are…I want them as much as you do.”

Just an inch or two of flesh was enough. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and a shudder passed through him. She watched his resolve snap like a twig.