“Theduke”—he reached for a pillow—“expresslywishes.”
He arranged the pillow behind her back. His closeness compelled her to lean and filled her lungs with his scent.
“Now, I think, your feet.”
He moved the camel saddle so he could sit down opposite. He cupped the back of her calf as he slid off her slippers. Then, he propped one foot on his knee as he kneaded her muscle. A low groan escaped her lips.
“Shockingly tense,” he murmured.
“Imagine.” She closed her eyes as his delightful fingers soothed her wine heavy body. She sank into the support of the curved arm. “More, please.”
“Of my ministrations? Or of the wine?”
She opened one eye. “Your ministrations will do.”
He appeared pleased with her answer as he turned his attention to her other foot.
“You,” his voice had gone melodic and low, “havenothingto fear fromme.”
“Mmmm,” she replied. How could he be right about so much and still be so very, very wrong? She stretched one arm up over her head. And then when his hands began traveling up her leg she exclaimed. “Oh—oh.”
“Don’t dissemble already,” he murmured. “I’ve only just begun to touch you.”
She peered down through her lashes. “Ah, but I am a wanton, or so I’ve been told.”
“A wanton? I’d expect nothing less from a woman named for both a Titan and an Olympian.”
She held out her hand. When he took it, she urged him nearer.
“Midnight,” he continued roughly, “is the time for unmasking. Unmask yourself. Let me see you in all your goddess glory.”
His words, assisted by want and wine, warmed her prickling flesh.
Holding his gaze, she removed the pins in her hair, one by one. The weight of her curls drifted down over her shoulders, and she reveled in his arrested expression. He buried his fingers in her tresses and then pulled her close.
His light but lingering kiss tightened her inner muscles.Mercywas her final, coherent thought.
And then she could not think at all.
* * *
She melted by measures like a sculpture of ice. Her edges gradually smoothed beneath the heat in his hands. He’d been near mad with frustration for days, but strangely, he preferred this gentle thaw to a frenzied satiation.
She was everything—everythinghe’d known she’d be and more.
Leaving her dressing gown fastened at the throat, he parted the bottom and slipped his fingers inside. Slowly, he slid his hands over her shift, caressing the body beneath.
He learned her shape, first, from her hips to the inward curve of her waist, then climbing inch by inch to where her rapid breath expanded and contracted within her chest. When he ran his palm over her already hardened nipple, hot desire knifed through him.
She wanted him, however rocky the path they’d taken.
He teased the proof of that desire with the pad of his thumb. All female breasts were a marvel. Hers were pure gratification, their soft sensitivity, relief he hadn’t known he’d been seeking.
“Duke,” she breathed.
The lust-infused version of his title had a curious effect on him—part pique, part passion. He repeated the caress and her whole body shuddered. She was exquisitely sensitive. He returned her heavy sigh—a moan, really—with a low hum of approval.
“Godric,” she said in softer, sweeter tone.
