Page 45 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

“But…” She gulped, willing herself to be brave. “You have never complimented me before. Often you look away as if you are ashamed of me.”

“I did not want you to feel any pressure from my… attention to you,” Robert said in a gravelly voice.

Was it her imagination or had he come closer?

“Which kind of pressure?”

“To… rush things more than you were comfortable with. Was it not the entire point of your list?” Robert looked down at his hands that were still holding hers.

“Yes, but…” Jo licked her lips. Being this close to him and being this honest was overwhelming in a way she had never experienced before. “We have not stuck to the list, have we? We should have been…”

“Kissing each other’s cheeks, I know,” Robert interrupted her and looked up at her with a smoldering expression in his eyes. He stared at her for a long moment and Jo reveled in his attention, feeling as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Then Robert took a slight step back from her although he did not let go of her hand. “The problem is I fear that I would have trouble sticking to just kissing your cheeks.”

“You would?” Jo breathed, not even certain what she was saying anymore.

Robert nodded solemnly.

“Since we are speaking candidly: I am deeply attracted to you and have been since the start of our marriage.”

“You have not,” Jo scoffed and could not help but laugh derisively as she looked to the side. It was still light out; the yellow curtains were swaying gently in the breeze from the open window.

“It’s true,” Robert persisted, now smiling as well.

“You thought me a loon, when I first approached you at the Thistleworths’ ball.” Jo fought the urge to tuck her hands out of his grasp and cross her arms over her chest.

“Perhaps. But one with a very delectable bosom.”

Both their eyes strayed to Jo’s décolletage briefly. She had opted to wear her mother’s pearl necklace tonight. A silver chain with one large pearl that was nestled between the tops of her breasts. The dress was slightly more revealing than her dresses normally were, but both Madame Laval and Beatrice had assured her that it was fine, since she was a married woman. When Jo met Robert’s eyes again, his gaze was even more heated than before.

“I thought you looked charming with all your freckles,” she told him, and Robert looked to the side and made a self-deprecating sound. It gave Jo courage to step forward and place her gloved hand on his cheek. It was completely smooth and she could not help but be a tad disappointed that she could not feel his stubble. The silk of her glove might be thin enough that it would have pricked her palm through it.

“It made me think you would not berate me for being freckled as well.” Her voice was breathy. She did not dare look at him but kept her eyes on her hand.

“Your freckles are charming,” Robert breathed. His exhale rushed over her, smelling sweetly and potently of port.

Jo did not wish to argue it. Her uncle had said the same, but Ambrose had told her enough times that no man would want a freckled bride, that she could not believe him. She accepted the freckles as a necessary evil, since she liked the way the sun bleached her hair. It only made her like Robert more that he complimented her for them.

“What would happen if you kissed my cheek?” Jo wondered.

“I want to kiss you everywhere, Jo.” Robert’s voice was low and hoarse.

She was in his arms now, both of his hands resting lightly at the small of her back, although she was not certain when he had let go of her hands. When she had moved closer. She gulped at his words, letting them sink in. Finally let herself meet his eyes. They seemed to be a brighter shade of green than normal. Like a fire was lit behind them.

“I’m… I’m not certain I am ready for it yet. Not… not that at least, but I would like…” She swallowed thickly and let her hand fall from his face to his chest. It was solid and warm. Steady like her first impression of him had been. “I would like to kiss you,” she whispered.

Robert’s eyes widened and his breath turned shallow. Jo had imagined that he would move forward to kiss her immediately, but he was standing completely still. He nodded once, then again.

“I can control myself,” she heard him mutter as he finally leaned forward, just a little. There were still several inches between them.

Jo remembered how agonizingly good it had felt when they had first kissed in the Thistleworth garden. Potent and delectable in a way she had never imagined possible. She wanted that feeling again. She had been thinking of it for the past thirteen days and she wanted it again. Now. Without thinking, she reached up to meet his mouth.

Robert’s lips were warm and soft beneath hers at first, then firm and demanding as he took control of the kiss. She could taste the port on his lips, and it felt intoxicating. Everything in Jo vibrated and hummed, but the feeling especially seemed to gather in the tips of her breasts and between her thighs. She had never desired another person as much as she did him. She clung to his jacket as he tucked her firmer against him.

“Fuck, Jo,” she thought she heard him mumble.

“I know,” Jo replied, even though she was not exactly certain what he meant.

Robert took advantage of her lips parting to speak and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Jo eagerly met it, remembering how overwhelmingly good it had felt the last time. It seemed to encourage Robert further; one of his hands slid down her back to cup her backside. The hand was large and warm through the layers of her dress and petticoat and felt possessive and appreciative at the same time.