Project Duchess - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,74

higher his mouth went, the hotter it grew until her blood felt like steam and her body like jelly.

She began to moan. And that was when he used his fingers to part her curls so he could lick—lick—her tender flesh!

“Grey!” Her eyes shot open and she grabbed his head. “Dear Lord, Grey . . .”

Now his eyes were closed. He said nothing since his mouth was otherwise engaged . . . in kissing and licking and sucking her in a most provocative manner.

Then his tongue slid inside her, and she arched up on the table’s edge. “I don’t think this is how . . . lovemaking is done,” she managed to gasp. “Not from what I . . . understand.” Surely he needed to use a different part of his body to—

All thought abruptly left her mind. Because he was . . . oh, heavens, what he was doing with his mouth and . . . and teeth was . . . wonderful. She wanted more of that. She pushed against him, and his tongue caresses grew more intense. Soon she was keening and swaying until with a cry she vaulted over into madness.

He gave her only a moment before he wiped his lips on her nightdress, then drew back, his face wrought with tension.

“Where’s your bedchamber?” he asked.

Too replete with pleasure to think, she stared at him. “Why?”

“I’ll embarrass myself again if we don’t go there now. And I’m not about to take you for the first time on a kitchen table. So where is it?”

“Upstairs.”

He groaned. “Of course it is.”

Rising from the floor, he reached behind her to swig some claret from the glass she’d set down. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her through to the entranceway. As he climbed the staircase, she grabbed his neck to keep from falling. Not that he seemed likely to drop her. Dear Lord, he must be very strong to be managing this.

“I’m quite capable of walking, you know,” she said, though something about being carried up by him sent a thrill through her.

As he reached the top and saw the three open doorways, he growled, “Which one?”

All she could do was point, still drowning in the amazing aftermath of his carnal caresses. He hurried through the doorway she’d indicated, then set her down on her bed so he could pull off his cravat and unfasten the fall of his trousers.

As she knelt on the bed, she noticed his member swelling in his drawers through the open fall. It should have frightened her. After this afternoon, it did not. She’d never imagined being able to arouse such a man, who could have any woman he pleased.

Uncle Armie had been aroused by anything in skirts, but she’d watched Grey with the maids, and even the pretty ones hadn’t drawn his gaze. She began to think he might really prefer her. Well, at least he preferred her to the maids.

His heated gaze seared her as he kicked off his shoes. “Take off your nightdress, sweetheart. I want to see you naked.”

Uh-oh. It was one thing to let him see parts of her at a time, but to allow him to see her plump bottom and freckled back and small bosom altogether . . .

“Heavens, but you’re bossy.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”

“You want me to go first?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Very well.”

He shucked off his trousers, which left him in only his stockings, his prominently bulging drawers, and his shirt, which he dragged off over his head and tossed aside, too.

Her breath got stuck in her throat. For a duke with leisure time to spare, he certainly had a magnificent chest, with firmly defined muscles and a patch of black, curly hair spreading between them before narrowing to a thin line that led down to a lean stomach so perfect she wanted to bite it.

Bite it? Had she really had such a thought?

“Like what you see?” he asked in a low rumble, reminding her of their first kiss.

She nodded, incapable of forming words at the moment.

A smug smile flashed over his face. “Want to see more?”

“Yes, please,” she choked out.

“Then take off your nightdress, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“Let me guess—you’re balking because you have warts on your belly.”

She eyed him askance. “Don’t be silly—no one gets warts there.”

His eyes twinkled as he pulled off his stockings. “You have the pox then?”

“Of course not!” She huffed out a breath. “I only . . .

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