James feltherfly atop him.
It had to be her. There was no question. Yes, he felt her luscious curves and he knew exactly who it was. And then, of course, there was her delicious scent of vanilla and ink.
“Good morning, Jack,” he said on a slight groan, the air having whooshed out of his lungs.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she replied, still atop him.
…
The Fates, in Jack’s estimation, were the very devil, and having far too much of a laugh at her expense.
And, of course, the Duke of Stone.
For how else could one explain the fact that she was splayed out atop him? His hard musculature pressed into her exactly as it had the night before, without the accompanying passion of the kiss.
And yet just the mere pressing of her body to his awakened her anew. It was all she could do to stop herself from letting her hands roam over his form, savoring his heat.
As she stared down at his face, his chiseled jaw, his tempting lips, she then caught his gaze and nearly gasped.
He was staring up at her, completely transfixed.
Perhaps it was because the air had been knocked out of him. She did not think that was entirely true, though. He looked as if he wished to wrap her up and disappear into a world unseen where he could ravish her senseless in the most irresistible way.
She wished it, too, but now she feared they had entered a farce.
It wasn’t every day that she found herself crashing into such a wall of a man and bringing him down.
For bring him down she had.
He must have been so entirely surprised by the circumstance of her brother dashing past, and she had been so intent on getting her music back from Edward, the infuriating little fellow, that she had not spotted the duke.
His silence was most strange, as if he did not wish to let her go.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” she asked, unable to bear the quiet any longer. She pushed her hands into the floor and propped her face up a bit.
A strange smile tilted his lips and their gazes locked.
Once again, there was a spark of fire so intense one might have assumed that Prometheus himself had gone to the gods, brought it down the mountain, and given it to them.
Both of them drew in a breath, which caused their bodies to press more deliciously together. From her breasts, to her bodice, to her stomach, to her hips. And she felt his body inch for inch beneath hers.
She bit the inside of her cheek as desire laced through her.
What on earth would it be like to be without clothing like this with him? And as soon as the mad thought had danced through her brain, she shoved it away.
She could not allow such folly-ridden thoughts. She had promised Louise that she would not, and the duke himself had made it evident that such a thing was not welcome to him either.
He cleared his throat. “I am surprised but perfectly capable in body. I am made of sterner stuff, Jack.”
He was. Of that, she could attest.
Stern, indeed.
She started to shove herself up, but her skirts were tangled about her legs.
Carefully, she attempted to roll to the side, but she was quite tangled up with him.
Suddenly, he rolled her over, and her back slid onto the hardwood floor. He stared down at her, his gaze softening. His hair brushed against his chiseled cheeks and his face transformed.