“I am overly tired after all the distractions of this house party,” she informed him. “Some rest is just what I need.”
“You cannot sleep whilst I’m making love to you.”
He was still aghast. And arrogant, because of course. He was Riverdale, and he believed the world was his to command, his to possess, his to use and flaunt as he wished.
“I am reasonably certain I can,” she countered and made a show of yawning before she allowed her eyelashes to flutter closed.
“Enough,” he said softly and yet with a hard edge of warning.
It spurred her sufficiently to peek at him from beneath the barrier of her lowered lashes. His jaw was drawn tight, his full, sensual lips thinned to a grim line. Determination? Vexation? Perhaps both.
She opened her eyes fully. “Is it over, then?”
He growled and reached for her again. “You bloody well know it’s not. It has yet to even begin. Cease playing games with me, madam.”
This time, he peeled away the other half of her night rail, baring both breasts. Cool night air kissed her heated bare skin. He lowered his head, but instead of taking her nipple into his mouth as he’d done before, he nipped her. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but the sting sent a jolt through her, making Sybil gasp.
“Do I have your attention yet?”
He flicked his tongue over the pebbled pink tip. It felt wrong to watch him, and yet she couldn’t look away from the sight of his handsome face so near to her breasts. His breath fell hot upon her, replacing the chill and sending longing to another forbidden part of her.
She didn’t answer him, holding her tongue as well as her breath. She may have to share her body with him, but Sybil didn’t owe him her thoughts as well. He could take what he wanted and leave her in peace.
He’d already taken so much.
His tongue swirled around her nipple again. “Answer me.”
And still, she didn’t. She hadn’t meant this as a game, but if he accused her of playing one, then perhaps she ought to. It certainly seemed thathewas. Toying with her like a cat pawingat a defenseless mouse it intended to slaughter and leave lifeless in the garden path when it wasn’t of interest any longer.
She was no mouse.
He drew her nipple into his mouth again, sucking and then releasing her with a loud, sinful sound that echoed in the hushed quiet of the chamber. Then he moved to her other nipple, treating it to the same. Heaven help her, she liked it even more. The evidence was between her thighs, a steady throb awakened by his touch and the sinful suction of his wicked mouth. She pressed her legs together and discovered she was shamelessly damp.
He kissed a path from the curve of her breast to the hollow between them next, his hand settling on her hip to hold her still. It was a gentle grasp, that of a lover rather than a captor, and she knew she could escape if she wanted. But she also knew there was no point in doing so. She had to give him this if she expected him to grant her freedom in return.
Except, freedom was the last thing on her mind as Riverdale’s wicked lips continued their path, moving higher. To her throat. His lips feathered over her bare skin, and she wondered if he could feel the rapid beat of her heart. His hands moved with slow, tantalizing precision, caressing over her breasts, guiding her night rail down her arms and unwrapping her as if she were a gift.
He opened his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. Her breath caught, heat licking through her like flames in a hearth. He cupped her breasts and kissed higher, finding her ear as his thumbs toyed with her aching nipples.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
She hadn’t expected him to proceed so slowly. To make herfeel.
She had hoped he would simply do what was necessary and leave her in peace. Not that he would unravel her both literally and figuratively.
“The act is meant to be pleasurable,” he murmured into her ear. “Why do you lie as stiffly as a branch?”
Sybil clenched her jaw. “How dare you?”
He chuckled, the sound bitter and without mirth. “I dare everything, madam.”
Swiftly, he shifted positions, his gaze blazing as he leveraged himself on his forearms and loomed over her. “Including this.”
In the next moment, his mouth was on hers. And at once, the shock to her senses was almost too much to bear. Sybil wished he kissed her with anger. That icy coldness and grim indifference would have laced his kiss. But they didn’t. He kissed her tenderly, gently. He kissed her in a way that made it easy to forget all the hurt and bitterness that had marked their marriage.
He kissed her and made her remember what it had been like to be courted by this handsome, compelling man. Made her recall everything she had been so determined to banish from her recollection.
Her hands had a mind of their own, settling on his shoulders. There was no more night rail to frantically clutch and cover herself, and besides, touching the Duke of Riverdale was a revelation in itself. He was firm and strong, his muscles flexing as his lips angled over hers. His tongue coaxed her to open for him, and she did. The taste of him flooded over her, sweet, like the port he must have consumed after dinner with the other men.
