A Vixen for the Devilish Duke by Olivia Bennet

Author:Olivia Bennet
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2019-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

Relief flooded her body as Dorothea loosened the stays of her corset, and her head fell back as she enjoyed the freeing sensation before flinging the corset to the floor. She pulled the ribbon and discarded her petticoats on the floor. That left her wearing just her chemise as she sat at her dressing table.

She loosened her hair from the plaits her lady’s maid had fastidiously fastened and ran her brush along the length of it for less than half the required one hundred strokes. It was not her job to do it anyway. That’s what Sarah was for.

Besides, she was far too preoccupied for such humdrum tasks. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the Duke. She looked in the mirror, narrowing her eyes in annoyance when she caught the slack-jawed, dreamy-eyed look on her face. Her cheeks were pink, her pupils were dilated. She stared in despair at the masquerade mask she’d pilfered from him, hanging on the corner of her mirror where she could watch it as if it were a coiled snake.

Dorothea bit her lip, remembering how close he seemed to have become to her sister. Oh, she had accepted that Miss Raby was kin to her—there being no other reasonable explanation for the resemblance. She just was not interested in pursuing a bond because of it.

She plucked a rose from the vase atop the fireplace, pressing the fragrant flower to her nose. The perfectly sweet scent assailed her, she savored the feel of the petals, still as delicate as they had been when it was plucked from the garden. Trailing the rose against her cheek, she wondered if the petals had always been that soft. Whether her body always melted like candle wax against the heat at the scent of roses. She could not say, only that from this moment, a rose would never just be a rose.

The rose was every aspiration she had toward the Duke. It was his rough palm on her skin, his eyes ardent as he declared his passion for her, just as vibrant and red as this rose.

Dorothea drifted unconsciously to her bed, the rosebud pressed to her nose as her body fell down to her mattress with a sigh. All thoughts of the Duke were so utterly consuming that she could not escape. It was as if he was in the very room.

One hand held the rose, running it along her skin, while her other hand inched along her body. Her nipples tightened as her fingertips brushed over them. She trailed her hands down her midriff, hesitantly drifting downward.

Dry-mouthed, she glanced at her bedroom door, making sure it was securely closed. She would likely remain undisturbed all night but the dread of discovery in such a compromising position made her pulse race—yet didn’t stop her from her sensual exploration.

Palm pressed between her thighs, she gasped, the intensity making her sink even more into the mattress. She lightened her touch using just a single finger against the gossamer-thin fabric of her chemise.

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