Page 64 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

“No,” he admitted thoughtfully. “It will not. I daresay I shall have to prove it to you, then.”

The goosebumps were back, climbing up and down Thalia’s skin, making her shiver, making her want something that she did not quite understand. The pulsing between her legs was most insistent, craving something that she had no idea how to ask for.

Even if she did know, she was quite sure that she would not humble herself by requesting it. Oh no.

Christian moved back, gracefully dropping down until he knelt in front of her, his head now just a little lower than hers.

It occurred to her that she’d never seen him from such an angle. His lashes seemed longer, his eyes larger and brighter. Different.

“I can see that I have not made myself clear,” he whispered.

“And… and will you do so now?” she breathed, not entirely sure what to do with her hands. Place them on her knees? Fold them? What? She settled on placing them on either side of her, palms down, fingers spread, tips digging into the cushion beneath her.

“Oh yes.” He chuckled mischievously. “My sweet girl, I am going to make sure that my name is the only one you can speak.”

CHAPTER 18

Thalia blinked hard, half-expecting the scene to rearrange itself in front of her eyes.

But no, it stayed the same. Christian was kneeling before her, fingers curled around her knees. She could feel the back of the settee digging in below her shoulder blades. The rough grain of the cushion stretched beneath her fingertips.

The novels she had read talked often of love and romance but generally in a distant, vague way. The heroine might share a kiss or two or swoon at the very thought of her beloved, but that all seemed rather chaste.

The thumping, pulsing sensation between her legs was very different to what she’d read about. In fact, there had been no mention at all of the hot, tight feeling in her chest, the feeling that made her swallow reflexively even though her mouth was dry.

In short, she felt that the novels had left her thoroughly unprepared for this.

“I don’t understand,” she rasped. It felt like the proper thing to say at that moment.

Christian surged up on his knees, pressing against her. His fingers slid around the side of her neck, coming to rest on her nape. He kissed her, lips hot and tasting of alcohol. It occurred to her that it was whiskey, one of the liquors that gentlemen enjoyed but ladies weren’t expected to partake in.

When he pulled back, the room spun around her. The leafy garlands around them stretched in, shivering, and she closed her eyes, giddy.

“You may leave if you like,” Christian whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “The door is locked, but you can easily unlock it from the inside.”

Her breath tangled in her throat. “I… I don’t want to go.”

The words were out before she could weigh them. She was a little startled to realize that they were true, that she desperately wanted to see what Christian would do next.

On a more selfish note, she wanted to see where the coiling feeling inside her gut might lead her.

Christian grinned, eyes crinkling like a fox’s. He kissed her again, more slowly, and then moved his lips to her neck. It was just like when they had kissed at the art gallery. Heat flared inside her, fluttering, trying to escape.

His hand curled around her hip, a warm weight. The touch made her squirm for some reason that she did not quite understand. She was tempted to press her hip into his palm, but that felt decidedly wrong, so she didn’t.

His hand explored, sliding up her side, tracing her ribs, trailing across her belly. Her muscles tensed in the wake of his hand, and she bit her lower lip hard to hold back a whimper. Why did his touch affect her so much?

It wasn’t as if she was a stranger to touch. She hugged Augusta all the time. She hugged Laura. She was fairly sure that she and Laura had walked through the park with their arms wound around each other’s waists, and Laura might even once have rested her hand on Thalia’s hip, almost like her brother did now.

And yet this was so different. Thalia barely noticed Laura’s touch, just like she barely noticed Augusta’s or even Jonathan’s when he used to hug her and hold her hand when they were younger. How strange that the same touch could feel so very different.

Christian’s lips moved back to hers. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip, and she slackened her jaw, allowing him entry. Kissing, it turned out, was not as unappealing as novels made it look. There was no mandatory swooning afterward, and nobody died of joy or sorrow.

Her skin prickled when his hand slid lower, following the line of her thighs. Both of his hands moved now, inching downward to cup her knees again, ending where he’d begun.

Is that it? Thalia thought when he pulled away.

It was hard to disguise her disappointment. The pulsing in her gut had only just begun to sharpen, and it felt very much like the beginning of something instead of the end.