Page 65 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

Christian pulled back, sitting down on his heels, and grinned up at her. That grin took her breath away.

Oh, this isn’t over. I daresay it’s barely begun.

He tugged at the hem of her skirts, gently gathering the material and pushing it up over her knees. Thalia dug her fingertips into the cushion beneath her.

It was only her calves, her modestly stockinged calves. Still, everybody knew that it wasn’t proper to show one’s ankles to a gentleman. It just wasn’t. It was the reason ladies had to ride side-saddle to avoid displaying their ankles and calves and, heaven forbid, knees to anybody who might care to look. Even though calves weren’t very pretty, and ankles were just ankles, and it would be so much easier to wear breeches in any case.

Christian’s warm fingers curled around her ankles, effectively interrupting her train of thought. She exhaled raggedly, finding his eyes in the gloom and holding them.

He watched carefully, almost thoughtfully, as his fingers inched upwards. The gentle touch curved over her calves and around her knees once more. Her skirts bunched around his arms.

When his fingertips traced a line along her thigh, she gave another gasp. Her legs seemed to slacken of their own accord, and when he gently nudged her knees, her legs fell apart without conscious thought. His fingertips skimmed the outside of her thigh, almost up to her hipbone.

She wore a shift under her petticoats, of course, but nothing beneath it. There was no need since it wasn’t yet her time of the month. So when he slid his fingers up her inner thigh, he touched her bare skin.

The shiver ran the length of her whole body. A moan bubbled up her throat and tumbled out of her mouth, startlingly loud. Eyes widening, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Christian glanced up, eyes dark.

“I would encourage you to make as much noise as you like,” he breathed, “but perhaps not this time. I don’t want hordes of curious guests descending on the conservatory, searching for the source of the noise.”

Just as Thalia managed to fix that mortifying image in her mind, his fingers slid through her wet folds.

It went without saying that she had never been touched there before.

A rush of terrifying pleasure shot through her, intense enough to make her grip the edge of the settee hard enough to make the wood creak. She gasped aloud and pressed her other hand over her mouth once more.

Again, his fingers slid through her folds, then pressed upwards against a certain point that made her thighs quiver.

“I do believe you like that,” he whispered. “Am I correct?”

She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak.

“Should I stop, or should I continue?”

Oh, he was teasing her now.

Thalia gulped audibly, trying desperately to force back her gasps and moans enough to speak. When that didn’t work, she settled for an earnest nod.

Christian’s wicked grin stretched wider.

“I ought to make you speak,” he purred, fingers moving in a slow, thoughtful rhythm against her. “I ought to make you beg. But perhaps I might take pity on you, just this once.”

Pity? Thalia thought, faintly outraged.

But there was no time to retort. No time at all.

Leaning forward, Christian pushed up her skirts higher so that they pooled around her hips. That left her legs bare, exposed to the cool air. Goosebumps lifted on her skin at once, and she swallowed thickly.

Modest young women were not naked; everybody knew that. Even in the bath, they’d wear shifts. Thalia certainly did. When the time came to change, she would put on her clothes as quickly as possible, hiding her pale flesh and not looking in the mirror.

Christian wanted to look at her. Twin red spots appeared on his cheeks as his gaze trailed over her bare legs. He cleared his throat, gaze flicking up to hers once more, before he gently pushed her knees further apart.

This time, when he leaned forward, it wasn’t his fingers he slid against her, but his mouth.

The sensation was so different. All softness with the right amount of pressure. His tongue slid against her sex, like a kiss, and his stubble scratched her inner thighs. A strangled gasp escaped her throat. Pleasure began sharp inside her, coiling around her gut and groin, intensifying.

Where was it going to go? She felt as though she might burst. Her skin prickled, her spine stiffened.