To Desire a Wicked Duke (Courtship Wars)

Propping the pillows against the headboard behind him, he sat back and held out a beckoning hand to her. “Come here, love. Let me warm you.”

Wordlessly, she obeyed. She had agreed to his terms, even though after tonight, not only would their marriage be irrevocable, her body would no longer be her own.

When she climbed onto the high bed to sit beside him, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her close. Accepting Rotham’s embrace, Tess let her head rest on his shoulder.

For a while he merely held her, his heat seeping into her. She could feel her chilled body warming against the satin of his bare skin. His hand drifted soothingly over her hair, down over the long sleeve of her nightdress and back up again.

For a time she was content to remain in the hard masculine shelter of his arms. She felt cloaked in warmth and safety … yet undeniably aroused as well. Being with Rotham like this, sharing his bed, brought back potent memories of their wedding night. His slow caresses reminded her of how skillfully his hands and mouth could play over a woman’s body … over her body.

Tess bit her lip, keenly aware of the contradiction. He was offering her comfort yet stirring chaotic feelings of longing and desire inside her. Feelings she would no longer—could no longer—resist.

After a moment, his lips pressed against her hair. “You should take off your nightdress,” he murmured.

Without argument, Tess eased away from Rotham and rose up on her knees. Her palms damp with nerves, she unbuttoned the bodice of her cambric nightdress, then caught the hem and drew it over her head, letting the garment fall to the carpet beside the bed.

When, self-consciously, she made to cover her breasts with her hands, he shook his head. “Let me look at you.”

It was arousing in itself, she realized, to have Rotham studying her nude body. She never would have believed a simple look could be so titillating. The expression in his eyes made her breathless.

He was a riveting figure himself, she thought, taking in his physical masculine beauty … his gold-brown hair, thick and wavy, glowing richly in the lamplight. The proud bones and angles of his aristocratic face. His firm, sensual mouth. His strong, vital body. His enchanting, mesmerizing eyes.

Her gaze was caught helplessly in his, even before he reached out and traced a fingertip over her cheekbone and along her jaw, then lower, down the column of her throat to one bare breast. Her nipple peaked instantly, making Tess gasp at the delicious sensation. And yet she felt shaky, trembling inside.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked as if he could read her thoughts.

Not afraid of him, no. Rotham had been extremely considerate of her innocence that first time together, Tess reassured herself, so surely he would offer her the same consideration now. She feared herself, though. She was afraid of her relentless, deplorable need for him.

“I am a little nervous,” Tess admitted honestly.

“Then you should take the lead.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you learn my body? Your trepidation will decrease with familiarity.”

His suggestion was unexpected, and she didn’t immediately reply.

“You are completely in command, Tess,” Rotham added, his voice low and casual.

She understood and appreciated his tactics. By allowing her to control the pace of her deflowering, she was likely to conquer her nerves more quickly.

“How do I begin?” she asked.

“Use your imagination. You are not a complete novice any longer.”

No, she wasn’t actually a novice. Fanny had helped her to prepare for her nuptial bed, including lessons in self-defense regarding how to arouse a man. And Rotham had shown her the incredible pleasure to be found in his arms. She could attempt to work the same seductive magic on him, Tess decided.

When she drew down the covers to expose his entire lower body, her heartbeat hammered in her throat. He was an overwhelming man, lithe and virile, but it was the foreign sight of his loins that drew her gaze. His long male member stood thick and darkly rigid, fascinating her with its sheer proportions.

“You may touch me, Tess,” he urged. “I won’t break.”

She leaned closer, placing her palms against his bare chest, feeling the warm, strong resilience of his muscles as she trailed a tentative path lower to his hard, flat abdomen.

When she stopped short, Rotham took her hand and brought it to his loins. Her breath went shallow at the feel of that huge, swollen arousal.

Wrapping their joined fingers around his erection, he moved her palm slowly along its length, stroking himself with her hand.

“Can you imagine having me inside you?” he asked. “Filling you with my f