His Duchess (His and Hers 1)

She tried to compose herself, clearing her throat, but a few more giggles slipped out. At last she said, “I have never seen a nobleman painted with his—his cats!”

It was true. Whereas most members of the nobility were painted with their horses or their hunting hounds, this particular man had himself painted surrounded by four cats of varying colors. One sat beside him on the chair, two at his feet and the fourth sprawled on the back of the chair.

“Northfield is beyond embarrassed by the picture. But it is his great-great grandfather, and he was Earl of Northfield. So he leaves it hanging, albeit tucked in the corner.”

“You know that I’m a cat lover, but I can see Northfield’s point of view. Then again, it’s always fun to have an eccentric or two in the family. They provide such interesting stories.”

She still gazed up at the portrait but Taviston had lost all interest in the silly picture. The spot where her neck met her shoulder entranced him and without a thought, he brushed his fingertips up the sides of her arms. She shivered. He leaned down and pressed his lips fully to the patch of skin on her neck that held him enthralled. Inhaling her sweet lavender scent left him lightheaded.

He raised his lips to her ear and whispered, “I have wanted to kiss that particular spot all evening. And quite a few others.” As he finished speaking, he gently nibbled her earlobe.

She took a steadying breath and replied, “I really do not think we should be discussing kissing.”

Pulling herself out of his very light grasp, she turned around to face him as he question

ed, with more than a little disappointment, “No?”

“No.” She clasped her hands around his neck, stood on tiptoe and brought her mouth to within an inch of his. “I think we should actually be kissing.”

Oh bloody hell. He briefly glimpsed the heat in her shimmering blue eyes before he sealed his lips to hers.

Taviston poured all of his pent-up passion into that kiss, knowing he might never have the chance to taste her lips again. And ah, what sweet lips they were, like heavenly fruit. So soft, so essentially Victoria Forster.

Sliding his hands down her back, he gently kneaded her rear. She moaned into his mouth and he gripped her tighter, pulling her against his arousal. He was thrilled when she didn’t stiffen in shock and then moaned himself when she rubbed against him.

She had learned a lot from their last kiss. Brief though it had been, she now employed every move he had made that evening. Deepening the kiss with a tilt of her head, she didn’t hesitate to unseal her lips and allow her tongue to enter into the hot recesses of his mouth.

He had never been this inflamed before. Harder than a brick. Every nerve in his body alive and alight. Everywhere her body touched his—her hands stroking the nape of his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest, her stomach crushing his erection—he felt pleasure so exquisite he didn’t care if he ever lived to see another day. This, here, now, was enough.

Some small, rather irritating part of his brain tried to send him two cautions. The first was that he could not possibly satisfy his desire for her with just one kiss, and the second was that even what he was doing now was wrong, wrong, wrong.

The rest of his mind overpowered the poor little practical part and wanted to know why it then felt so right, right, right. All of this thinking detracted from his experiencing the passion and pleasure of a lifetime, so he tuned it all out and focused all of his efforts on ensuring she too felt the same intense gratification.

He softened his lips over hers and turned the kiss in a more sensual direction. She sensed the change and willingly followed his lead. He stroked his hands up under her arms and skimmed his thumbs along the sides of her breasts, causing her to bring her hands around to cup his face and then nip at his lower lip. Damnation, but she packed a lot of passion into such a small body.

As he continued to show her all of the delights of slow, erotic caressing—with both lips and hands—she lowered her own hands to his cravat, unraveled the simple knot and tossed the linen aside. Her dainty fingers continued to travel down his body, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat as they went. When she began to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his pantaloons, he pulled his mouth from hers.

At first he couldn’t discern much, but then another bolt of lightening brightened the gallery and he caught the gleam in her eyes.

“You are so beautiful, Victoria.”

As the hall fell into darkness once again, he turned and pulled her by the hand over to the chaise beneath the oversized window.

She settled herself in a reclining position without a word passing between them. Reaching up, she grasped his hand and tugged him closer. He lowered himself beside her and his lips found their way to hers as if drawn by a magnet. He lost himself in that kiss—and didn’t care if he was ever found.

The touch of her hands on the flesh of his back shocked him out of his reverie. A new flare of want shot through him as her fingers traversed the skin beneath his shirt. The intimate contact abruptly turned their kiss into one filled with expectant hunger. He drank from her lips again and again. Throwing one leg over hers, he pressed his hard length into her thigh. She pressed back and dug her fingernails into the muscles in his back.

Gliding his hand over her stomach, his fingers feathered across the top of her breast. She pulled her lips from his and sucked in a breath as his thumb slid inside the dress and over her chemise-covered nipple. He set his lips upon a trail—down her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, breathing in the intoxicating mixture of lavender and woman that was her scent. He arrived at the top of her breasts and placed his lips on the freckle he had spotted from across the drawing room.

It was a challenge but by deftly reaching around to her back and unhooking the top of her dress he was able to loosen her corset and free one breast from the confines of the garish garment and her chemise.

“Taviston,” she rasped. He didn’t think she herself knew what she was asking for, but he did.

His lips outlined a circle around the outer edge of her creamy breast. Then he opened his mouth and took the nipple inside. He teased it with his tongue and then suckled.

She gave a soft moan and pushed her thigh harder against his arousal. He wanted this moment, this potent desire, to last forever. He also wanted to bury himself inside her right this very minute and expire from the sheer joy of release.

His eyes were closed but the lightening outside the window penetrated his eyelids and—