Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,34

wrapped my hands and has tested my reaction time,” Ana Maria said. “Thus far, he has not shown me how to do anything that would possibly help me in a difficult situation.”

Finan raised his eyebrows as he looked pointedly toward Nash.

“It’s preparation.”

Finan nodded. “Of course. Preparation.”

Why did that sound like such a loaded word?

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Finan said as Bertha put the mop back into the bucket, nodding in satisfaction. “Don’t forget the dowager duchess requires you at tea. Dressed appropriately,” he added with a wink.

“Thank you.” Ana Maria spoke before he had the chance to. Not that that was unusual, of course.

“Thank you,” he echoed as the two left the room.

“Well. Shall we get back to it?”

“If you’re actually going to show me something, then yes.” That wicked smile.

He liked it when she smiled like that. Too much. He also liked it when she needled him, which was something he should ponder later, but likely wouldn’t.

“Let me show you several things.”

Chapter Nine

“Let me show you several things?”

When she repeated his words, she lifted her voice at the end as though it were a question. And she accompanied that question with a raised eyebrow as well as a slight tilt to her mouth. As though she were in on a secret joke.

He swallowed. The Ana Maria with the question and the wicked smile was not the Ana Maria he knew. Had known for most of his life.

This Ana Maria was more like a siren, an alluring maiden whose very expression made it impossible to resist.

He froze in place, not quite sure what to say. What did one say to the sister of one’s best friend when one wished that she were anything but a best friend’s relative? When one wished she were, in fact, a woman with no personal ties to him that he could fuck with abandon?

Far better to stay frozen. Though one part of him, at least, had not heeded the warning. His cock was stiffening in his trousers, an aching reminder of what he was beginning to believe would end up a full-blown never-realized desire. He couldn’t give in to what he was feeling because that would be to betray both his best friend, his next closest best friend, and his own determination not to care for any person of the female persuasion. Her especially.

But he had not counted on what she might want.

“I do want you to show me things,” she continued, sounding both hesitant and alluring. An intoxicating combination. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what I want you to show me. And now, for example, I want you to show me how to kiss.”

And before he could react, she was leaning up on her toes, putting her hands on his biceps to steady herself, and placing her mouth—her luscious, soft, sweet mouth—on his.

His hands went automatically to her waist, curling his fingers around her body. He felt her shudder, and he froze again, but then she slid her hands down his arms all the way to his fingers and placed her hands on top of his, squeezing them in reassurance.

And then she took her hands away, but immediately put them at his waist, giving a tiny tug so he inched toward her.

Their bodies were nearly—nearly—touching.

And still, her mouth stayed pressed on his. Just there. Not moving, not doing anything.

She wanted to know how to kiss? She was asking for his help? For his instruction?

He’d give it to her.

He pressed his lips more firmly against hers, then slid his tongue across her mouth, making her gasp. Which resulted in her opening for him, and his tongue, which slid in slowly as she shuddered some more.

He kept still for a moment, letting her grow accustomed to it.

All the while his cock was thickening, lengthening, straining against the fabric of his trousers. If their bodies were touching she would be able to feel it, too, and he fought the urge to yank her against him so she could feel what this was doing to him. And he could feel her.

She made a tiny noise in her throat, and then her tongue met his, cautiously sliding against it, the only noise in the room their breaths and the faint whisper of fabric as their fingers clenched the other’s body.

Her hands were exploring his back, her palms spread wide against the thin fabric of his shirt.

Thank God he wasn’t wearing a jacket.

The only thing standing between his upper body and her fingers was