Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries 2)

I dipped my head to hide a smile, and Alex leaned forwards.

I would swear on my deathbed that his lips were intended for my cheek—that it was designed to be nothing more than a friendly peck goodnight, like the kind of quick kiss on a cheek you’d give your best friend or your aunt or something equally innocent.

But, by some strange twist of fate, I happened to lift my chin right as he turned his face, and his mouth made contact with me.

My mouth.

His lips.

They were against mine.

And they were soft and smooth and warm and all the things I’d ever dreamed they would be.

It lasted but a second before we both jerked away, and I gripped the door handle so tightly that the metal cut into my palm. My heart thumped against my ribs, and my traitorous lips were tingling with the memory of his.

Oh, dear.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Alex started.

“No, it’s fine. I moved—”

“I moved—”

“And we just—”

“And we just, you know—”

I cleared my throat, putting an end to the rambling, and smiled. “It happens. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Right. Of course.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then, with a smile, held out his hands. “Hug instead?”

That sounded like a terrible idea.

So, naturally, I agreed.

I wrapped my arms around his waist while his circled my shoulders. His body was firm, and I could feel the rapid beating of his heart when I pressed my head against his chest.

Why was his heart beating like that?

“Thank you for keeping me company after I messed you up tonight,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t know I needed it.”

I smiled and peered up at him. “It was fun. I just have to figure out how to beat you now.”

“Good luck with that.” His lips curved as he looked back down at me.

For a second, everything stopped.

There was just him and I, with nothing but a whisper of space between our lips, and our bodies pressed right against each other.

My stomach clenched with anticipation, and I drew in a sharp breath. “Alex, I—”

“God help me for doing this,” he murmured.

And kissed me again.

This time it was deliberate, and it was clear in the way he kissed me. It wasn’t the shocked pause of before. It was firmer and deeper, real in a way that tugged at a hidden part of me.

He drew me even closer to him, and I flattened my hands against his muscular back until we were so close that not even air could pass between us. Alex cupped the back of my neck, and tingles ran down my spine as his fingertips brushed against my skin.

I didn’t want to wake up from this dream. Oh, gosh, it was the realest one, I’d had yet, and it was almost as though—

It was real.

Holy—

This wasn’t a dream. Not this time.

I was actually kissing Alexander.

No, no, no, no!

I broke off the kiss and pushed away from him, killing all contact between us. My heart was beating a mile a minute, and every single breath I took was shuddery and uneven, and I flattened my hands against my stomach as I stepped back against my door.

“We—” I took a deep breath. “We shouldn’t be doing that. I’m sorry, I…”

“No. no, I’m sorry. You’re right.” Alex swallowed and looked away. “Goodnight, Adelaide.”

He turned his back to me and walked down the hall. He ran his hand through his hair and dropped his head, and a heavy mixture of guilt and regret trickled through my body.

“Alex. Alex, I—”

He disappeared without a word before I could say anything else, and I slumped back against the door, closing my eyes.

What a mess.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – ADELAIDE

“Oh, Adelaide. There you are.” Mrs. Berry rushed into the library where I was trying and failing to write. She looked awfully harried with her hair sticking up at all angles, and she tugged on her dress as she approached me.

“Mrs. Berry. Is everything all right?” I said, standing up.

“My daughter’s water has just broken, and the hospital wants her brought in,” she said hurriedly. “Her husband is in London for work and might not get back in time. There’s been a terrible crash on the motorway, and it’s closed both ways. I cannot find Alexander or Elizabeth anywhere to tell them, but I need to drop my grandson off to my husband and take Angela to the hospital. She’s only thirty-four weeks. I know you’re done for the day and you’re working on your book, but can you watch Olympia?”

“Oh, my gosh, of course. Absolutely.” I shut down my laptop and tucked the chair back in, quickly following her out. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No, sweetheart, but thank you for asking. I will try to call Alexander when I get her to the labour ward, but if I don’t, would you tell him I might not be able to make it tomorrow?”