bent and pressed his lips to her nape, the kiss tender yet scalding. He moved to where her neck and shoulder joined and kissed her there. Her head fell away, giving him better access. Rhys joined her on the bench, his mouth again touching her throat as his hands captured her waist. She had no thoughts of fleeing, though. Dangerous as he seemed, she was compelled to stay.
He lifted his head, his gaze intense. She shuddered.
“May I kiss you, Dalinda? On the mouth?”
“If you don’t, I might kiss you first,” she replied honestly though it sounded flirtatious to her ears.
His brows arched even as the ghost of a smile drew the corners of his mouth slightly up. One hand left her waist and cradled her cheek.
“You are more than beautiful,” Rhys said. “You are intelligent. Caring. I can tell passion lurks just beneath your cool façade.”
His thumb stroked her cheek. “We are playing with fire, Dalinda, and that is always dangerous. Someone is bound to get hurt.”
“I don’t care,” she said boldly. “I need to kiss you.”
She wanted to taste him. Touch him. Hold him. Have him do the same to her.
“There is no going back,” he warned.
“I have learned not to look back,” she said. “I live in the present and have hopes for the future.”
“We have no future,” Rhys said sternly. “You are a duchess. I will never be worthy of you.” Desire filled his eyes. “But for a few minutes, I would like to think of us as equals.”
His thumb stilled and his mouth covered hers.
Chapter Nine
Dalinda thought his kiss would be demanding. Instead, it was the gentlest she had ever experienced. His lips brushed against hers softly. Sweetly. Achingly slow and tender.
If Rhys meant to light a fire within her, he accomplished it with the delicacy of the kiss. She felt heat generate within her and spiral outward. Her fingers moved to his face and stroked it longingly.
She wanted more. More of his kiss.
More of him.
His tongue slowly outlined the shape of her mouth, sending a shudder through her. Her hands slid from his face down to his chest and she clutched his waistcoat, bunching it in her fingers. His tongue slid along the seam of her mouth, teasing it open. She parted her lips and it swept inside. Suddenly, his scent—coupled with the taste of the wine they’d had at dinner—filled her senses.
Rhys’ arms went about her, crushing her to him. His tongue began dueling with hers for control and Dalinda realized it was a war where they both would win. He tilted her head back for better access and deepened the kiss. It went on and on, filling her, causing the blood to rush to her head and pound in her ears. Her breasts began to ache, longing for his touch. The place between her thighs began to pound fiercely, as did her heart.
Still, the kiss went on. She lost all sense of time. There was only this man. In this moment. Bringing delightful shivers and causing her body to tingle with need. Gilford had never kissed her like this.
Rhys broke the kiss, panting. She realized she did the same. His vivid, green eyes swallowed her up.
“You are quite the kisser, Your Grace,” he teased.
Her eyelashes fluttered. “I would think after sharing ourselves in such a manner that you would call me Dalinda.”
She relaxed her hold and dropped her hands to her lap, suddenly self-conscious with what to do with them. He removed his hands from her waist but his face remained close to hers.
“Are you still the daring girl from your childhood?” he asked huskily. “One who might be willing to come to my bed?”
Her eyes widened. She was not some naïve miss straight from the schoolroom. In the ten years she and the duke had moved through society before he became ill, she had been made aware of how many of the ton disregarded their marital vows for their own pleasures. Women who had provided an heir—and sometimes, a spare—were free to find a lover of their choice. Widows, in particular, had a special freedom within Polite Society. As long as they were discreet, their affairs were their own business.
She was now a widow. The mother of two boys. A mature woman who had only been with one man. Her husband. She knew Gilford had given her permission to find a new husband after his death but did she have the audacity to take on a lover? If so, Rhys would be