“His dark eyes held promises that made her breath catch, suggestions of pleasure she’d never dared imagine. When he finally reached her side, his voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her very core.”
I take a larger sip of scotch.
“‘Lady Margaret,’ he murmured, his lips dangerously close to her ear. ‘I’ve been watching you all evening. The way you move, the way you laugh... it’s driving me to distraction.’”
Fuck. Her voice has dropped to that intimate register, the one that probably sells a million copies. Professional, but with just enough breathiness to make it feel like she’s whispering secrets.
“She should have pulled away. Should have maintained proper distance. Instead, she found herself leaning closer, drawn by the heat radiating from his powerful frame. ‘Your Grace,’ she whispered, ‘this is highly improper.’”
I’m gripping my glass too tight.
“‘Improper?’ His laugh was dark velvet. ‘My dear Lady Margaret, you have no idea how improper my thoughts have been since the moment I saw you.’”
Christ. I can practically hear the smile in Golda’s voice as she reads this, like she knows exactly what effect her narrator voice has on people. Professional as hell, but there’s something underneath?—
“His hand found the small of her back, and she gasped at the contact. Even through the layers of silk and propriety,his touch burned. ‘Tell me to stop,’ he commanded softly, ‘and I will walk away. But if you want to discover what lies beyond these walls of yours...’”
I hit pause so fast I nearly knock over my drink.
Silence fills my condo, broken only by the sound of my own rapid breathing.
What the actual fuck.
I just spent eleven minutes listening to the woman who rejected my coffee, dinner, and breakfast invitations describe a duke’s seduction techniques in excruciating, breathy detail. The same voice that gets nervous asking for extra foam in her latte just narrated a scene that has me shifting uncomfortably on my own couch.
My phone buzzes.
Bro you see the highlights from tonight? That pass to Luca is already a meme.
I ignore it and stare at my laptop screen. Sixteen more audiobooks in my queue. Sixteen more opportunities to torture myself listening to Golda’s voice doing things to fictional men that she won’t even consider doing with me.
This is insane. I’m insane.
I stand up and head for the bathroom, cranking the shower to cold. The water hits my skin like ice, shocking my system back to something resembling sanity.
But then I’m standing there under the freezing spray, and all I can hear is her voice echoing in my head. “His touch burned.” “Tell me to stop.” That low, intimate register she uses for the Duke’s dialogue.
Fuck it.
I grab my phone from the counter and scroll through the audiobook app. “The Duke’s Desire” - Chapter Seven: “A Lady’s Surrender.”
Of course there’s a chapter called that. Of course.
I crank the volume to territory more fitting for a nightclub and let the phone rest on the shower ledge, then turn the water from arctic to steaming. If I’m going to lose my mind, I might as well be comfortable.
Golda’s voice fills my bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls.
“Margaret found herself pressed against the library door, the Duke’s body caging her in. ‘We shouldn’t,’ she whispered, even as her hands fisted in his shirt.”
I close my eyes, water cascading down my back.
“‘Tell me what you want,’ he commanded, his voice rough with need. ‘Say the words, Margaret.’”
Christ. The way she drops her voice for his dialogue, makes it sound commanding and desperate at the same time. Like she knows exactly what that tone does to people.
“‘I want...’ she breathed, ‘I want you to touch me. Please.’”
My hand moves without conscious thought, and I’m imagining it’s not some fictional duke and lady. I’m imagining it’s me pressed against that library door, Golda’s voicewhispering those words meant for me instead of narrating them for thousands of strangers.
