Page 66 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

Almost imperceptibly, Christian’s movements quickened. He shifted, nudging her thigh up and over his shoulder. The brush of his soft hair against the inside of her thigh made her bite her lip hard, tasting copper. The angle changed, and she shuddered, letting her head fall back. His fingertips dug into her leg, a blunt pain that she hardly noticed.

“Oh, Christian,” she breathed.

Then, climax crashed over her, an explosion inside, a burst of sharp pleasure that left her gasping and shivering, spine arching, fingers digging into the cushion beneath her.

Only when the pleasure had finally begun to ebb—it lasted for a full, glorious minute, she was sure of that—did Christian pull back. He let her leg slip from his shoulder.

Thalia, still struggling to catch her breath, stared at him. His eyes were dark and hungry, hair disheveled. Even in the gloom, she could see a little redness around his mouth and a sheen of wetness.

Delicately, he withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth. Then he used the same handkerchief to wipe her inner thighs. She shifted, suddenly realizing that there was a lot of wetness between her legs. Where had it come from?

That had not been all that couples did; Thalia was sure of that. Ladies weren’t supposed to know about such things, and everybody knew that. Their mothers might modestly tell them the truth on the eve of their weddings, ideally couched in euphemisms and vague references.

It was far more likely that a lady would go to her husband’s bed on the night of her wedding unaware of what awaited her. The novels certainly didn’t touch on the act at all, except for when a pious and courageous heroine might avoid being ravished.

The story of Pamela and her lecherous employer came to mind. That book had not been a favorite of Thalia’s. She had thrown the book at the wall when she realized what the ending was going to be.

“You seem preoccupied,” Christian remarked coolly, although there was a catch in his voice. “What are you thinking about?”

There was no time to think of a lie.

“Pamela,” Thalia managed weakly.

He blinked. “What, the novel Pamela? With that wretchedly prim heroine? The one who faints to avoid being ravished?”

“Yes, that’s her,” she answered, brightening. “You’ve read it?”

“Unfortunately, I have,” he snorted, putting away the handkerchief.

Leaning forward, he carefully tugged down her shift first, then the layers of petticoats. Last of all, he straightened her skirt. There was a nasty crease in the front of the blue silk, but hopefully, she could explain that away.

“I hadn’t imagined that we would talk about novels,” he remarked, sounding faintly amused.

When he rose to his feet, Thalia flinched, eyeing him uncertainly.

“I… I am not sure I can get to my feet,” she stammered. “My legs seem to have turned to jelly.”

His eyebrow arched. “I appreciate the compliment. Nevertheless, you must try. We’ll both be missed soon enough.”

Missed.

That fateful word brought to mind images of Jonathan and Augusta racing around the party looking for her, growing increasingly frantic. She felt a stab of guilt in her gut.

Swallowing, she took Christian’s outstretched hand. His fingers were warm and a little damp, and that could only be from touching her. The thought made fresh heat surge through her, which was a little terrifying. Hadn’t his touch calmed her desire? Instead, it seemed to have stoked it further.

That is not good, considering that we’ll be parting ways sooner rather than later.

She hauled herself to her feet. As expected, her legs were a little unsteady, but it was nothing she could not manage. At last, when she was steady enough, he released her.

She opened her mouth, presumably to take her leave—she really had no idea what to say to him or how to look at him after what had happened—but he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him hard. She gave an undignified squeak.

“You see what I mean?” Christian whispered, his voice low and amused. “You belong to me, my dear. Not all men are created equal, nor do they all learn the same skills. Don’t assume that any man’s touch could make you feel the way I do.”

“Yes, so I gathered,” she managed weakly. “Since I was dancing with Mr. Pembroke earlier and felt nothing like that.”

Christian’s lips twitched as he bit back a smile. “That is fair enough.”

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside, and both of them froze. Thalia clung to him, and he tightened his arm around her waist. If they pulled apart, the movement might draw the attention of whoever might be walking outside.