He leaned toward her until his lips were only inches from hers. He smelled like soap and spice, and she wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and never let go.
“I understand far more than you realize,” he breathed, just before his lips descended to hers.
The kiss was gentle at first. Then, as seemed to be their habit, it turned into something completely different. Pure, raw emotion and need infused it as their tongues met and clashed. He gently pushed her down onto her back and rolled atop her.
“Yes,” she whispered, pulling him hard against her. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she let her head fall back as he rained kisses down her neck.
His hand skimmed down her ribcage, and he hoisted up her skirts on one side, before his fingers brushed against the side of her bare hip. A gasp escaped her. No one had ever touched her this way. He’d moved her shift aside. As if guided by some inner female knowing, she opened for him, spreading her legs as his hand found the juncture between her thighs. She wanted this. Wanted his touch. Shamelessly begged for it.
“Delilah,” he said in a low, warning tone that thrilled her to her toes, “I’m about to take this from improper to purely sinful. But not without your permission. Shall I—”
“Please, yes,” she whispered against his ear.
His finger moved along the seam of her sex—impossibly sinful, perfect—and she shuddered and closed her eyes. Then he dipped one finger inside of her. He slidit in, so slowly and deeply. She bit her lip and called his name against his ear.
He withdrew his touch and slowly moved his finger along her seam again until he found some magical point of pleasure between her thighs. He nudged it again and again with his fingertip while Delilah thought she might go mad from pure longing. She’d never felt such need before. An intense sensation built in her loins, and she tossed her head back and forth fitfully against the blanket, unsure of what she wanted, but desperate for it.
His hand left her momentarily and she gasped, “No.”
His fingers trailed up to her décolletage, where he slid her gown off her shoulder and tugged it down gently, freeing one breast from her shift and stays. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently, before his lips descended to her nipple. He sucked the little bud between his teeth, and Delilah’s eyes rolled back into her head. She clenched her jaw against the raw emotion as his hand descended once more to torture the tender flesh between her thighs.
He sucked her nipple hard into his mouth and lavished it with his tongue while his finger continued its insistent circling between her legs. Her thighs tensed and shook. Sweat beaded down her back. She clutched at his muscled arms, her fingers digging into the fine fabric of his shirt. He tugged at her nipple and then laved it while her breathing came in short little pants against his shoulder. Her eyes couldn’t focus on the night sky. It was all a blur of velvet blue, the stars pinpricks sprinkled across it.
When Thomas’s finger stopped for what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, she clutched at his shoulders. “Don’t stop, Thomas. Please,” she nearlysobbed. He started again, simultaneously sucking her nipple into his mouth once more, and the combination of sensations sent her over the edge into some kind of trembling, shattering pleasure she could never have imagined existed. She closed her eyes and saw the stars on the insides of her lids as wave after wave of pure bliss rocked her body.
His breath came in hard pants too, as though he had experienced her pleasure vicariously. He pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, her damp forehead, her eyelids, and then a single, parting one to her lips. “Delilah. My Delilah.”
Yes, she thought.His.Heart, body, and soul.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I’m falling in love with Thomas!” Delilah exclaimed the next afternoon over tea in Lucy’s drawing room. Delilah paced in front of the fireplace, her hands pressed against her cheeks, while Lucy, as usual, administered an inordinate amount of sugar into her teacup.
The duchess barely glanced up. “Is that a bad thing?”
Delilah’s eyes widened. “Are you quite serious?Yes, it’s a bad thing.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Why? You said he told you he loves you too.”
“It’s a bad thing because he doesn’treallylove me. He onlythinkshe loves me because of the potion. I’ve ruined everything. And now he’s… he’s…”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell Lucy what Thomas had done to her last night at Vauxhall with his hands and mouth. She still didn’t know what to make of it herself. She only knew it was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to her body, and she wanted todo it again with him at the earliest opportunity. Which was part of the problem. She couldn’t allow Thomas to continue to believe he was in love with her and do things for her likethatwith his tongue and hands. Not when she’d duped him into loving her to begin with. It was all quite wrong. Even if it felt absolutely right.
Lucy took a tentative sip of tea, no doubt to test its sugar content. “I don’t think you’ve ruined everything, dear. Complicated it, perhaps. But isn’t that what we do best? We are only mortal.” She fluttered a hand in the air.
Delilah continued her pacing. “Thomas said it himself. The day I told him I’d purchased the potion. He said, ‘Do you really want a man whom you have to drug to fall in love with you?’ The answer is no. No, I don’t want a man whom I have to drug to fall in love with me.”
Lucy scrunched up her nose. “But you wanted the Duke of Branville. And you intended to drug him.”
Delilah groaned. “That was a mistake, and honestly, I don’t think I ever really wanted Branville. I want Thomas, but I can’t have Thomas because he’s… Thomas. But more importantly because I tricked him into loving me.”
Lucy added another lump of sugar to her cup and stirred it daintily with a tiny silver spoon. “You cannot possibly think you should marry Clarence Hilton.”
Delilah paused and slid her slippers against the floor. “No, of course not, but that doesn’t mean Ishouldmarry Thomas. There are more than two men in this world.”
Lucy tapped her cheek. “I don’t see what the problem is, dear. I suppose we could try to find a third man, but it seems quite a tight schedule, given your marriage is planned for less than a fortnight from now.”
Delilah made her way to the settee where her friend sat and lowered herself to sit beside her. “I don’t wantanother man. I want Thomas. At least I think I want Thomas.” She cradled her head in her hands. “Oh, why is this all so confusing?”
