“Oh, Miss P.J.,” his voice was smooth, a low purr that made her pulse spike. “That was… cute.”
Prim knew she definitely needed to be insulted. But she didn’t get the chance. His fingers tightened on her chin, just enough to know that she was no longer in the helm.
“Now.”
The word meant that he indulged her too long. Now he was going to show the kind of lion she was poking. He leaned closer, his smell, that faint smell of something earthy and citrusy at the same time, filling her.
“How about I show you how it’s done, Miss P.J.?”
Prim didn’t even have the time to react when he claimed her. There was no other word for his descent upon her. His mouth captured her with such intensity, Prim dropped her reticule and all her resistance with it. His lips seized hers in a slow,demanding kiss, taking her upper lip first, then lazily moving to her lower.
She swayed, balance too much for her to sustain. Her hands went to his chest, her fingers crumbling the lapels of his suit in desperation. Even that was not enough when his velvet tongue licked the seam of her lips. Prim moaned in both surprise and something even deeper. One languid lick more, and Prim gasped.
She felt the smile carve on his lips when he ventured forth and met her. His tongue slid across hers in slow, deliberate moves, exploring her. Her body reacted before she could think. She met him, timidly at first, testing how he felt in her mouth. And then greedily, starving. Prim felt her knees give, unable to keep standing after that conquest.
He held her, his hand pulling her by the waist to him, the space between them erased. He took a small step forward to trap her against the marble handrail. His hand moved from her cheek, his thumb high on her cheekbone, his fingers brushed her ear to cradle her head.
Prim sighed at the possessive touch, the battle in her mouth momentarily forgotten. She leaned into that touch, her lips moving to claim more. Leo was determined to undo her completely, and he angled his head to kiss her deeper. Sweet shiver ran down her back, coiling low in her stomach, a sigh leaving her lips, her fingers curling on his chest.
Then it was over. He grumbled lowly and eased back. Prim didn’t have much experience, in fact, she had no experience, but she knew that he didn’t want to stop. It was in the way his arm was still holding her, tighter now than before. It was in how his lips lingered so close to hers. It was in the storm in his eyes as he kept fixating on her mouth.
“That,” he growled, “was a real kiss.”
It was not a mocking quip about her previous attempt. In fact, he didn’t seem to be speaking to her at all, but to some internal, furious logic. The kiss hadn’t been a conquest or a calculated move in their game. It had been a lapse. A complete and total suspension of strategy. Prim, through the haze this onslaught of sensations brought, could see it in the stark frustration on his face.
The Duke of Mildenhall wasn’t surprised by a simple kiss, he was troubled by it. This raw, unplanned hunger for her was a complication he couldn’t afford inside the carefully constructed walls of their arrangement.
CHAPTER 9
Sapphire Necklace
Prim knew that at some point she would have to go downstairs for breakfast and stop sitting at her vanity, touching her lips. But she found it completely excusable to need a moment to recalibrate her whole existence, to make sense of something that had nothing logical and still held power over her. The kiss.
Her body still hummed with awareness, where he touched, awakened. Her mind told her that it was a complication, a dangerous game to her reputation and her sanity, and it was simply bad. But there was another part of hers that whispered something different. Prim decided that it was prudent to ignore that voice and finally go down to eat.
“It is if you are not even trying!” Her mother’s cold voice reached her as she made her way to the drawing room.
“Mother,” Camilla said as firmly as she could, “We danced and talked. It is not as if we can perform miracles. If, perhaps, you-”
“Insolence!” Her father accused.
Prim had heard enough. She entered the room with hasty steps. Instinctively, she moved to stand between her parents and her sisters, always the sentinel to the girls’ happiness.
“What is the meaning of this?” Prim demanded.
“This is your parents talking to your sisters, and we would appreciate it if you didn’t interfere,” her father demanded.
“I am not going to sit by idly while you accuse my sisters of god knows what,” Prim felt her spine straighten.
“And I would appreciate it if both of you acted with a little compassion and care.”
“But we do!” Her mother protested. “We want to ensure your sisters’ future.”
“Something that won’t, of course, come to fruition if Camilla and Myrtle,” her father pointed at them, “keep clinging to each other and not some gentleman.”
“Perhaps you should provide us with some sort of chain,” Camilla said, radiating rage, “so we can properly snare a suitable gentleman.”
Her father looked at the middle daughter in warning. The tension was high. Prim too was wound up for a fight. Their parents went too far this time. Considering the situation, her sisters did a great job. She wouldn’t allow the only people who were supposed to be helping the twins navigate their debut, insult them.
