He continued his journey down her body, kissing, licking, biting, until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She fisted her hands in his hair, trying to hold him in place, but he only laughed against the softness of her belly, moving ever lower.
He was almost to that spot that ached, and she tried to close her legs, embarrassment flooding back. But he soothed her with a soft shushing noise and coaxed her legs back open with soft kisses along the inside of her thighs.
He teased and tortured, and once her hips came up off the mattress in response, she recoiled in humiliation. She’d put her lady parts so dangerously close to his—
Without hesitation, he grabbed her hips, positioning her just as he seemed to want her.
“Oh God, Eliza.” The tone of his voice had her struggling to sit up to see what it was he was looking at.
But he was looking at her. He was looking…there.
What could be so marvelous about there that he would—
But then he lowered his head, and she forgot about everything.
The pleasure bordered on pain, and she came up completely off the mattress, driving herself into his mouth. He groaned and took a firmer grip on her hips, pulling her toward him as she grasped at what was left of the bedclothes.
The tension built with every lick, with every suckle of his lips. She squirmed and tried to get away, but his hands held her firmly until she knew she could endure no more.
“Dax, please,” she begged, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t take this any longer.
He shifted suddenly, and with one final caress, she exploded against his tongue, her body convulsing on a wave of pure energy that buzzed through each and every one of her limbs. Her scream was strangled as she tried to recover her senses, and when she thought she was lost to sensation, Dax gathered her into his arms, holding her more tightly than he ever had before.
Her heart rate slowed, her breathing evened out. Her arms remained weak, and there was a different kind of dampness between her legs.
“What…” But she couldn’t finish the question.
He pressed his lips softly to her forehead before tucking her head under his chin.
“That was pleasure,” he whispered, tightening his arms about her.
“I didn’t know,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.
Another soft kiss flitted across her forehead.
“I know,” he said. “Now go to sleep.”
It was only as she let slumber take her that she remembered he still wore his trousers.
He had never had a problem acquiring the attentions of a good woman, and as he lay in the near dark, holding his satiated, sleeping wife in his arms, Dax knew he had never known pleasure like this before regardless of the number of women he’d had.
It frightened him.
It was true Eliza was not at all what society deemed acceptable, what a man would deem appealing, but to him, she was utterly perfect. Her breasts were small but pert and perfectly filled his palm. Her skin was the creamy paleness he thought only existed in the works of Renaissance masters. Every line, every curve, every dip of muscle and bone begged for his kiss, and he knew he would spend this summer discovering every inch of her body.
That was what frightened him most.
In the exploration, could he keep his heart immune to her charm? Could he keep his mind focused on the task at hand?
His plan had seemed so simple, so safe, but he hadn’t taken into account the possibility of actually enjoying his wife’s company. He had witnessed any number of societal marriages where the couple were little more than acquaintances who sometimes shared a bed when necessity dictated it. Such an existence was entirely delectable to his way of thinking, that was until he’d met Eliza.
He’d meant what he said. He did enjoy her company. Her wit and charm undid him. He’d laughed more in the week since meeting her than he had in nearly seven years.
Sebastian was right. It wasn’t his wife’s appearance that would be the threat. It would be her relentless personality. Eliza had a way with honesty that was refreshing and unburdening. He hadn’t expected that.
He swallowed and tightened his arms about her as he willed his body to calm. She was exhausted and needed her rest, but that didn’t stop him from remembering the way her body had reacted to him. The deep, involuntarily sounds she’d made as he’d tasted her skin, the way her legs had opened for him, how she’d responded to his touch, pressing into him as if she couldn’t get enough.
He closed his eyes. He had to stop thinking about it, or he’d never sleep.
Carefully, he eased himself out from around her and slipped from the bed. He padded over to the remnants of his dinner, and in a single gulp, finished the last of the wine. Henry continued to snore from where he’d fallen asleep beside the fire after his luxurious dinner, and the hearth crackled merrily behind the dog.
Finishing the wine, he returned the glass to the table and cast one last look back at Eliza, soundly asleep in the bed. The firelight reached just far enough to caress her in a soft glow of orange and yellow, illuminating her in the way he found so appealing. As if she were something not of this world, and he was unworthy of her presence.
He forced himself to turn away, and painfully, his gaze fell on the connecting door. He should leave her be. Retreat to his own rooms and relieve himself of the pressure in his trousers. He had no business spending the night with his duchess. After all, that was not at all a part of the plan.
But as he stood there contemplating that cold, unyielding connecting door, he realized he didn’t want to walk through it. All he wanted was to spend the night next to Eliza. He needn’t touch her. He needn’t wake her. He just wanted to be with her.
He expelled a harsh breath and raked his hand through his hair.
God, he was in danger. He was in very real danger.
He took a step toward the door, but he couldn’t make himself go farther.
Without thought, he spun and made his way back to the bed. Quietly, he shed his trousers and naked, slipped back beneath the covers of the bed.
He settled on the edge of the mattress, so far from his wife he might have fallen completely from the bed, but it was as if he were making a bargain with himself. He could stay the night, but he must do so with an insurmountable space between them.
It was a right proper plan until Eliza turned in her sleep, a single hand moving across the sheets toward him.
“Dax.”
His name, so sleepily, slipped between her lips, and for one unutterable moment, he hung suspended on a precipice. He knew this was a moment of decision even as he didn’t know. It was only his wife, reaching for him in her sleep only—
Her eyes opened with a soft flutter, and she blinked, as if taking in her surroundings and trying to recall where she was.
He moved, no longer able to help himself.
“Shhh,” he whispered, sliding back into his place beside her as he gathered her into his arms. “Go back to sleep. You’ve had a long day and need your rest.”
He expected her to drift back off, but instead, a mischievous smile came to her lips. She lifted her hand and placed a single finger in the cleft of his chin.
“I’m not sleepy,” she murmured.
He couldn’t stop his own smile nor the surge of lust that swept over him as she touched him. It happened every time she laid a hand on him, but unlike the timid caresses she’d given him before, now her hand was sure, confident. It slipped from his chin and began to explore, and it was all he could do not to roll on top of her and finish what he’d started. Her hand slipped lower, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck.