Chapter 9

Nine

J ulia's heart beat a crescendo as she clung to the duke, her knees threatening to buckle. Mercy, she never would have imagined a kiss so all-encompassing. She parted her lips, allowing him to delve into her mouth, giving back all that she received.

Another second of this and her reputation would be forever lost. And yet, she did not care. Standing there, pressed against his hard chest, wrapped in his embrace, she felt truly safe for the first time since Mama sent her away.

The duke pulled back, gazing into her eyes. He trailed his thumb down her cheek, across her tender lips.

Tingles went through her, desire pooling low in her abdomen. She wanted—nay, needed ? —

more. "Your Grace."

"No more titles." He shook his head. "Use my given name, Charles."

"Kiss me again." She rose up on her toes, bringing her lips close to his. "Charles."

He brought his mouth back to hers, catching her around the waist and backing her into an alcove. Lifting her into his arms, he trailed kisses across her cheek before capturing her earlobe between his lips.

She tangled her fingers in his blond curls, her head dizzy with wanting as he lowered them to a plush bench.

He came down over her, capturing one of her breasts in the palm of his hand. "Julia, tell me to stop."

She should follow his directive. Escape to her room with what little virtue she still possessed intact. But what then? She had never experienced such need, such desire. If she turned him away now, she may never again have the chance to experience such passion.

Being of low birth and employed as a lady's companion, she doubted she would ever wed. Certainly, her pool of suitors would not be large. Why shouldn't she allow herself this?

Julia pressed herself against him, bringing her lips back to his. She wanted this, wanted him. He was so close, so devastatingly handsome, and heavens! The way he made her body behave. For the first time, she understood why women swooned in the arms of men, risking everything for a man's touch.

He pushed the neckline of her gown down, revealing her breasts, before trailing his lips across her collarbone, then lower. Her blood ignited as he captured one hard nipple, lapping and sucking. She arched her back, desperate for more.

Emboldened, she ran her hand down his side, across his abdomen, pulling his shirt free of his breeches. At his sharp intake of breath, she kissed his neck before running her palm over his manhood.

He moaned against her breast. "God, how I want you." He pulled her skirt up, dancing his fingers along her calf, her thigh, her hip. Finding the slit in her drawers, he teased her damp folds.

She should be afraid, Instead, she was ravenous. Pressing closer to him, she rasped, "I want you, too."

C harles wanted so badly to possess her that, for a brief moment, he considered giving in. He nuzzled his head into her chest as he continued to stroke her sensitive flesh. So warm and wet, begging to be filled. He slid one finger into her, his cock straining against his breeches. What he would give to bury himself in her heat, but he'd already taken too much, gone too far. He'd not ruin her.

She writhed against his hand. "Please. More, I need more."

He brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, before pulling back. "You like my kisses."

"Yes." The word came out as a breathy sigh.

"I am going to kiss you until you call out my name in raptures." He slid down the length of her, blazing a trail of kisses from her forehead to her hip. Removing her drawers, he cast them aside before settling his head between the velvety skin of her inner thighs.

He pushed his finger into her again, pressing a kiss just above the soft curls shielding her sex.

She sighed a husky moan, allowing her legs to fall open.

God, she was sweet. The perfect combination of innocence and wantonness. He swirled his tongue over the swollen bud above her entrance as he continued to work his finger inside her. She moaned and wriggled beneath his ministrations, driving him wild as he suckled and licked her into a frenzy.

She tasted of sex and nectar—a delectable pairing. Her flesh felt equally delicious against his. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to feel her release—watch her come undone in his hands. He lifted his head. "Don't fight it, darling. Give into the sensations."

He inserted a second finger, working them in and out as he suckled until she shattered around him. Her walls quivering and squeezing. When she moaned his name, he nearly came off himself.

When she stilled, Charles laid his head on her abdomen as he drew small circles on her thigh. Once his breath returned to normal, he stood and retrieved her drawers. "Let me help you to bed."

She nodded, her eyes hooded. "I am rather tired."

He assisted her back into her drawers, then righted her gown before offering her his hand and helping her to stand.

She wobbled, still affected by her climax, and grabbed his arm for support.

Charles swept her into his arms, cradling her, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I'll carry you, darling."

"Thank you." She rested her head on his shoulder as he strolled from the room.

His mind raced more with each step he took. Julia responded to him as no other ever had. More than that, she made him respond as no other ever had. The way she molded to him, opened to him, how naturally she fit in his arms…it drove him mad.

He wanted her…yet could not have her.

The conflicting realities battled in his head as he walked down the hallway then pushed open her door. When he laid her on her mattress and she snuggled in with a satisfied sigh, it took all he had to pull the covers over her and turn toward the door.

"Goodnight, Charles."

He glanced back in time to watch her eyelids flutter closed.

They had to forget what they'd shared. Needed to forget what had happened between them. He may not have bedded her, but he'd ruined her all the same, and he could not allow it to happen again.

He swallowed hard, reaching for the door handle. "Goodnight."

He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Charles could not deny he'd left a piece of himself with her. Devil take it. He'd never be the same again. Neither would she, and it was his fault.

He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. Somehow, he had to make amends for his actions.