Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,87

placed her fingers into his palm. “Come with me.”

He led her down three small steps to the back garden, the sound of the party ebbing as they walked into the night.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I’m not taking you to my boxing room, so I think we have only one option for where to go. Somewhere we can fu—”

“Nash!”

He shook his head. “You and everyone else are always urging me to speak more. And yet when I do, you tell me to be quiet.”

She laughed, the sound unloosening something in his chest. He had to admit he was anxious—it wasn’t as though he was suave like Sebastian or commanding like Thaddeus.

He just wanted her desperately, and he wanted to ensure her pleasure.

“You are right, I am entirely contradictory,” she said, sounding amused. “You might say it is one of my defining characteristics.”

He grunted in reply, leading her further into the dark. He knew there had to be a gazebo or other type of building nearby—all of the London town houses he’d been to had some sort of backyard nonsense—and he was rewarded by the sight of a small enclosed pagoda.

“In there,” he said, tugging her forward.

The door swung open easily, and they found themselves in a circular room, benches against the wall, scattered cushions on top of them. There were a few lanterns placed to the right of the door, and Nash leaned over to grab one, hanging it up on a hook from the ceiling and pulling out his tinder to light it.

The candle flickered to life, the warm golden light making her look even more sun-kissed than usual, the colors of her gown shifting with her every move.

“Damn it, Ana Maria, but you are so lovely.” Far too lovely for the likes of him.

He wanted to tell her how he felt, what he was starting to feel, but the words choked in his throat.

He’d have to show her.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his words emerging slow.

“I was hoping you would ask,” she replied, stepping close to his body and tilting her face up to his. She slid her hands up his arms to link behind his neck, and she nudged him so his mouth was a breath away from hers.

“Kiss me, Nash,” she said, placing her mouth on his.

This wasn’t the brusque Nash she knew; this Nash was gentle, asking for her permission before doing anything.

It made her feel as though she was in control. As though she could guide what would happen between them, ensuring her comfort as she ventured into unknown territory.

Although that wasn’t entirely correct; she knew what happened between people—she had just not done any of it herself. Until him.

And she wanted to do more of it. With him.

She opened her mouth to his, their tongues clashing as he growled deep in his throat. Now she could add another Nash noise to her lexicon—sexual growl that meant he was barely holding himself back.

Because she could feel his hands grasping her waist, his fingers flexing as though wishing they could move other places.

She broke the kiss, whispering softly toward him. “Touch me, Nash. Everywhere.”

It was as if she had unleashed a fury with her words; his mouth captured hers again, his palm went to her breast to squeeze her, and his other hand slid down to grasp her skirts, slowly sliding the fabric up her legs.

The cool evening air made her skin prickle.

And then he stopped everything, and she had a moment of panic—did he want to stop?—but instead he was frantically removing his jacket and his cravat, tossing them onto the cushions, tugging his shirt from his trousers, raising it over his head and tossing that off, too.

His chest was made of marbled muscle, and she felt her mouth water as she regarded him in the candlelight.

He was Hephaestus. He was a god come to life, here to savage his way through her defenses.

And he’d called her a goddess. She felt like one, too, so powerful she could make this man hunger for her.

Before she realized what he’d done, he’d seated her on the cushions and was kneeling on the floor in front of her, his hands on the bottom of her gown. He kept his gaze locked with hers as his fingers raised the hem.

Up past her shins. Past her knees.

Then onto her thighs.

He licked his lips as he stared at her, and it was as though she could taste his hunger. How could he make her feel so alive just by looking