When a Duke Loves a Governess (Unlikely Duchesses #3) - Olivia Drake Page 0,76
lay the problem. He needed to view her dispassionately, as just another one of his servants.
But her forward movement had offered him a better view of her bosom, and what red-blooded man could resist such a sight? The delicate filigreed chain of her necklace was like a trail of bread crumbs leading downward into the valley between her breasts. Alas, the small gold pendant enjoyed privileges that he did not have.
Resolutely, he eased the shoe onto her dainty foot. “The slipper fits, which means it’s time for Cinderella to retire for the night.”
“Bah, that isn’t the way the story goes. I seem to recall the prince taking her into his embrace.” She shimmied closer and looped her arms around his neck. “It would be most inconsiderate of him to banish her from his sight.”
The warmth of her pliant body was almost too tempting to bear. Damn, he was in circumstances more treacherous than a storm at sea. The lust he felt should never be directed at a woman in his employ. Least of all one who had been used and abused for much of her life.
Still kneeling, he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Tessa, I’m very flattered that you enjoy my company. But if you stay, we’ll end up removing our clothing and making love.”
That blunt assertion didn’t deter her as he’d expected. Instead of recoiling, she regarded him with heartfelt sincerity. “I want that, Carlin. I feel such a great need for you, a craving that I’ve never felt for any other man.”
“That’s the wine talking,” he said hoarsely. “You can’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, but I do.” With a tender touch, she framed his jaw in her hands. The eyes that gazed into his were perfectly sober and candid. “I fear that I must make a confession. I came here tonight wanting … hoping for more than just a kiss. For once, I wish to experience the fullness of pleasure. To bury the past by creating a perfect memory of the here and now—with you.”
Those fervent words sealed his fate. And what a dazzling fate it was.
As she touched her lips to his, a white-hot desire seared him, burning his scruples to ashes. He molded her to his chest and returned her kiss with unbridled passion. Her eager response fed his own need to draw her essence into himself, to become one with her. How could he deny her when he, too, felt the fiery urge to merge their bodies?
But kissing her mouth was only a prelude to the feast. Guy wanted to taste all of her, every curve, every dimple, every hidden secret. As he blazed a trail down the uncharted territory of her throat and bosom, she arched her neck and threaded her fingers into his hair. Her quick, shallow breaths scorched him with the desire to press their bodies together, skin-to-skin.
While his tongue traced the whorls of her ear, he loosened the row of buttons down her back, his fingers clumsy with impatience. When at last it was done, and as he tugged at her gown, she assisted him by drawing her arms out of her sleeves so that her bodice slipped down to her lap.
He knelt before her like a supplicant to a goddess on her throne. Her undergarments had no frills or lace to distract from the smooth beauty of her figure, and he skimmed his hands over the warm contours of her waist and bosom. Only then did he allow himself to untie the strings of her corset and to slide his hands inside to open the stiffened fabric.
Freed from their prison, her breasts were a fête of femininity, with dusky rose nipples and lushly full globes. In the soft luminosity of the fire, they appeared the perfect size to fit his large palms. As he tested that notion and found it to be an excellent guess, the tremor that quivered through Tessa captivated him.
Her eyelids were at half-mast, her lips parted with pleasure as she pushed her breasts deeper into his hands and undulated her body against him. His own body responded with a hot pulse of desire. Bending his head, he took one taut peak into his mouth and laved her with his tongue before affording the same loving treatment to the other until she was gasping, her fingers moving restlessly over his shoulders and back.
She lowered her hands to tug rather impatiently at the hem of his shirt. “Shouldn’t you … may I see…?”