Page 69 of The Big Bad Duke

“Why not?” The words slipped out more boldly than she’d intended, and she shifted in his arms until she could see his face clearly, until she could read the conflict in his silver eyes.

He paused, searching her face as if trying to uncover some secret, some hidden truth that would make this decision easier. His tongue darted out to wet his lips—a nervous gesture that was so unlike him. The duke she’d known didn’t make nervous gestures. He was always poised, composed, and controlled.

She liked seeing different parts of him.

“Because of the circumstances we are in now,” he said finally.

“What circumstances?”

“We’re hunted like animals, driven into hiding. We could be dead tomorrow.” His jaw tightened with frustration. “This isn’t the right time to act on our desires.”

Leila couldn’t argue with the first part of his statement—their situation was indeed dire. Men with weapons and orders to kill them could emerge from the forest at any moment.

But she had lived her entire life this way. Every moment of her existence had been shadowed by the possibility of sudden, violent death. Every mission had carried the risk that she wouldn’t return. Every night, she had gone to sleep uncertain whether she would wake to see another dawn.

Nevertheless, she had not truly lived until now. And she wanted to experience this life as much as she could. Now, sitting close to the man who made her skin grow hot and her blood ignite in her veins, she wanted to be reckless.

“Perhaps,” she said, her voice carrying only the slightest hesitation before growing stronger with conviction, “it’s the best time to pursue it. If you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, isn’t now the best time to act on your desires?”

His eyes flickered with surprise. She hurried to continue before he could voice any objection forming in his mind.

“Happiness is fleeting,” she pressed on, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “If we die tomorrow, why not experience what little of it we can?”

He looked down at her then, his silver eyes searching her face. She saw her own longing reflected in his gaze and noticed the moment his careful control began to crack under the weight of desire.

The space between them seemed to shrink without either of them moving, the air thickening with a tension that had nothing to do with their dire circumstances—and everything to do with the magnetic pull that had existed between them from the very beginning.

Leila became acutely aware of everything—the warmth radiating from his body, the way his breathing shifted from steady and controlled to something deeper and more uneven, and the way his gaze darkened with passion.

“Gideon,” she whispered his name like a prayer, a plea, and a promise all wrapped into one.

And then his mouth was on hers.

Chapter 13

He pressed his full, warm lips to hers, and Leila couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her mouth. It felt as if it had come from deep within her soul.

His fingers plunged into her hair, his large palm cradling her head, angling her to grant him better access to her mouth. She parted her lips, bathing in the glorious sensation of his tongue exploring, tickling, and teasing her.

This kiss was unlike any she had experienced. It was hot, dark, passionate, firm, searching, teasing, and demanding all at once. She raised her arms and clutched at his shoulders, afraid she might dissolve because she could not feel her body. She could only feel the parts he was touching, kissing.

The rest of the world seemed to disappear. She might as well have been in heaven or somewhere else entirely, hurtling into space, with only his touch and kiss grounding her.

She clung to him, reveling in the feel of his mouth, his tongue, the taste of him.

She wanted more.

Leila couldn’t help the little noises escaping her throat, and it would have been embarrassing how much she was enjoying him if not for his grunts of approval and the way he clung back to her.

They were both swept up in mutual passion, and for the first time, she felt completely surrendered to another person.

When he broke the kiss, Leila let out a whimper in protest.

Her world tilted off-kilter, and she clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt and the muscles of his back, desperate to anchor herself. Desperate for him to keep kissing her.

Their breathing labored, they were both panting as if they had run for miles. Then he smiled, and the world righted itself back again.

He had a beautiful smile. It made him look decades younger—almost boyish and carefree.