Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,35

his shirt. A shirt he wore to box in, a shirt that didn’t matter at all, he likely had hundreds more just like it in one of his numerous wardrobes.

It took seconds to remove one of his hands from her waist to reach to the neckline of his shirt, yanking it down so it shredded with a satisfying noise. She jumped, breaking the kiss, and he took advantage of that moment to shrug out of the shirt and toss it over his head. Standing absolutely still so she could decide what she wanted to do now.

“Oh,” she sighed, and there was so much emotion in that one sound he nearly staggered. Curiosity and desire and passion and a certain hesitancy.

“Do you want to touch me?” he asked. He didn’t move. Her lips were redder than before, and her cheeks were flushed. Her dark eyes glowed with a heady sparkle.

He didn’t allow his gaze to go lower than her face.

“I do.” She stepped forward so they were nearly touching again. “I want to kiss you some more, too. I liked it.”

He released his breath and took her hand, placing it in the middle of his chest. Her fingers twitched, and he resisted the urge to hold her hand down. She wasn’t a dog to be soothed. She was a woman who needed to know her own mind.

Her fingers tangled in his chest hair, and then began to explore, sliding across the planes of his chest slowly, her eyes tracking her hand’s movement.

And then she looked up into his face, that maddeningly sensual smile on her mouth again.

“Your skin feels very different from mine.”

He swallowed.

She kept her gaze locked with his, moving her hand across his chest, her palm grazing his nipple, making him gasp. She tilted her head and paused then. “You like that?”

He nodded, since he couldn’t speak.

“Hm.” She moved her hand to his side, clamping her hand on him and urging him forward with the pressure of her fingers. He came willingly, hoping there would be more of this, but hesitant to do anything that would make her feel obligated.

She raised herself up on tiptoes again, her lips an inch away from his. “I liked what you were doing before. When you were kissing me. Do it again.”

And he exhaled in relief, clasping his hands at her waist again, pulling her body into his so he could feel every delicious curve as he placed his mouth on hers.

This was possibly the best idea she’d ever had, and that included when she’d chosen magenta silk to cover the wall in her salon.

After all, she was determined to discover things she liked and didn’t like, on her own terms, and she definitely knew she wanted to find out if she liked kissing.

Asking him to kiss her was perfect; he would not expect anything more, nor would he expose her. He was the only one she could experiment with without consequences.

She should know how to kiss, shouldn’t she? Along with being able to punch gentlemen she most definitely did not want to kiss. This was just more instruction, albeit completely inappropriate instruction.

She wanted more of that achy feeling that came when he’d—surprisingly—put his tongue in her mouth. She hadn’t gotten very many specifics when learning what happened between men and women when she’d been a servant, because the focus then had been what to do to prevent that.

Thank goodness for that, since if she’d known it felt so glorious she might have wanted to start sooner. And then she would have missed having her first kiss with him.

His tongue was in her mouth again, and she nearly groaned at how delicious it felt. He was licking her lips, sucking her tongue gently into his mouth as his fingers tightened on her waist.

Her breasts felt heavy and full, and she gave in to the urge to press them close to his body. The body she’d thought about when she’d imagined—and then seen—him fighting, but hadn’t realized was so brutally handsome. His chest was broad, with dark hair curling on the upper part, a narrow trail of hair on the lower part leading lower still, down into his trousers.

Mm. She wanted to follow that trail with her tongue.

She gripped his biceps with her fingers as their tongues sparred. It was hard and clearly strong, and she wondered what it would be like if he picked her up to kiss her.

Should she ask him?

But that would mean stopping kissing, and she didn’t want to do