The Duke’s eyes flashed with hunger, and he didn’t hesitate. He growled as his lips claimed hers in a fierce, ravenous kiss, a collision of heat and urgency that stole her breath and set her senses ablaze.
Oh God!
His hand cupped her face, fingers threading into her hair possessively, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him, and she let out a soft moan that he swallowed.
“Raph,” she breathed and melted into him, her hands clutching his coat, fingers digging into the fabric as if to anchor herself against the storm of sensation.
The hard planes of his chest met the swell of her breasts, and the contact sent a wave of pleasure through her that made her knees tremble.
I have to stop.
But she did not pull away, her heart racing with fear and exhilaration. She arched closer, her hips and breasts brushing against him, and the friction made a delicious ache pulse in her core.
The sensation was new to her, and she almost yelled out in ecstasy, but the Duke covered her mouth with his hand. His other hand slid to her waist, his fingers splaying with a commanding pressure, pulling her flush against him until there was no space left between them.
“You will be mine, Camelia.”
The whispered promise sent her reeling.
Her lips moved against his with desperate fervor, kissing him back with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. Every touch was a surrender to the desire that threatened to unravel her completely.
The Duke pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing ragged.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, disappointed.
“Be patient, little flower,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, you’ll be mine.”
CHAPTER 13
“Oh, Camelia, you look divine!” Margaret exclaimed, stepping back to admire the intricate hairstyle she crafted, her hands clasped dramatically under her chin. “The Duke won’t be able to keep his hands off you tonight!”
“Margaret!” Camelia gasped, her cheeks flaming as she shot her younger sister a disapproving look.
Margaret giggled. “You act as though you won’t enjoy it, Sister.”
“Heavens, why must you say such things?” Camelia admonished.
But the mere thought of the Duke’s touch sent a molten heat through her veins, setting her skin ablaze with a forbidden desire.
Their stolen kiss, a clandestine vow whispered in the shadows, had pulsed with the promise of future nights where his handswould finally claim her and his lips would unravel her darkest secrets.
Dear God, how can one kiss bind me to him so completely?
Iris sighed beside her as her nimble fingers adjusted her beaded dress. The soft sound drew Camelia’s thoughts away from the Duke.
“Margaret, behave. This is Camelia’s wedding day, not one of those silly novels you can jest about brazenly.”
“Oh, but are you not as curious as I am, Iris?” Margaret asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “His Grace is so tall and brooding, like a hero from those forbidden tales. Camelia, you must tell us what it is like to be his Duchess.”
Camelia’s face burned hotter, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Oh, dear God, I am to be a duchess!”
Camelia’s thoughts spiraled in a heady whirl of anticipation and fear as reality dawned on her.
“Can I truly be the duchess he needs and the mother his daughter deserves?”
“Come, dear sister. Sit,” Iris coaxed as she gently guided Camelia to a plush armchair. Its velvet cushion sank beneath her trembling frame. “You’ll be perfectly fine.”
Margaret hurried to her side, her usual playful spark dimmed by concern.
