Tuesday's Child by Baker Jeanette

Author:Baker, Jeanette [Baker, Jeanette]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Propping himself up on one elbow, Devereaux looked down at the sleeping woman beside him. Curled on one side, she slept like a child, the golden-tipped lashes resting on her cheek. He reached out to push the weight of her hair from her face, his eyes resting on the exquisite line of her chin and throat.

He was unusually moved by the sight of her, so small and vulnerable, her smooth golden skin very pale against the darker hue of his chest. He had never stayed the entire night with a woman once the physical encounter was past, but this time he had no desire to leave. This odd feeling of tenderness was unfamiliar to him. His arms tightened possessively around her.

She stirred and opened her eyes.

He kissed her forehead. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she lied. Resting her head against his chest, she listened to the firm steady beating of his heart.

"You will marry me?"

"Yes." Her voice sounded strained. "I'll marry you."

His lips brushed against her temple. "You'll never be happy without me, you know."

"I know."

He frowned. "Tell me you love me."

Tess sat up, holding the comforter in front of her. "Surely, you can't doubt me now."

The careful, guarded look was in his eyes. "Is it so difficult to admit?" he asked, trying without success, to mask his hurt.

Her grave expression faded, replaced by a look of tender amusement. Could the arrogant, self-confident Duke of Langley harbor the same insecurities as any ordinary man?

Tess leaned forward, placing her hands on his shoulders. The comforter slid to her waist. Touching the tip of her tongue to his lips, she explored the still, firm mouth. Gaining courage, she nibbled at the sensitive contours forcing his lips apart. Her tongue tentatively touched the rough edge of his.

Devereaux held his breath, afraid to move, afraid she would stop. Rigid with the effort of maintaining his control, the sweet torment of her breasts brushing against his chest was almost more than he could bear. His hands clenched.

Moving down from his mouth, Tess trailed moist kisses across his shoulders and the flat ropy muscles of his chest and stomach. He tasted like salt. She felt tremors, powerful yet controlled, wherever her mouth met the heated skin. Her fingers, cool and caressing, played across his flat belly, moving in gently circular motions until, by accident, she brushed against the hardness between his legs.

White heat consumed him. The raging flames seared his flesh and fired his blood, wiping all conscious thought from his mind. Instinctively, he sought relief in the cool fragrant softness of the woman in his arms. Pulling her beneath him, he thrust into her tight warmth, crushing her lips with his mouth. He made no attempt to caress her, holding her still with arms of steel.

Trembling, she arched up against him. A delicious warmth spread through her and she moved to his rhythm.

"My God, Tess," he groaned.

The warmth became an ache. Moving urgently against him, she wrapped her legs around his. Nothing mattered any longer,

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