Page 26 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“Yes, that’s… Good.”

“Relax.” He found another knot and worked at her again. Despite herself, she leaned back into him, closing her eyes and letting another sigh slip through her lips.

“Your muscles feel very tight here,” he observed. “You must have been very sore.”

She hissed another breath, then pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a moan. “Yes.”

“This may make you… tender.” He cleared his throat, adjusting himself slightly behind her. She almost turned around to look, then changed her mind. “But it should relieve the worst of the pain.”

“You are very good at that.”

For a second, his hands hesitated, then resumed their kneading. “I have some experience.”

“The army?”

“Mm.” He slid his hands back up her spine, and it was as though his fingers lingered on the back of her neck as he gave her once last squeeze. “There.”

Jessamine turned, finding him mere inches away. His chest almost brushed hers, and his head was tilted down, as though he was drawn into her orbit. Gravity brought them together. His eyes were dark, and one hand still rested on her shoulder, his fingers against her neck.

She felt loose. Hot all over, as though she wanted nothing more than to feel the air against her skin. Her stomach turned over.

“Jessamine…” he rumbled.

The hand on her shoulder moved to the back of her neck, and she moved instinctively, stepping even closer into him. Her chest truly did brush his then, and her nipples pinched. Sensation washed over her.

She gasped.

He groaned, as though he had been pushed beyond every limit known to man. His breath brushed her face, and she knew she ought to move away, to find her equilibrium, but a force she didn’t understand compelled her to stay. Demanded, with odd intensity, that she know how it felt to have those clever hands of his on more of her.

“Andrew,” she whispered.

The hand on the back of her head tightened, then his lips met hers. She didn’t know if she had been the one to move, or he had. All she knew was the heat of his mouth, the way it opened in invitation.

Jessamine took it.

She forgot they were in the nursery still, with William just a few feet away. She forgot that this was her husband whom she, at best, tolerated. Her body felt on fire, heat rushing down to the tender area between her legs.

She had never thought much about it before now, but having him kissing her made her core throb with urgent need.

His tongue brushed her lower lip, and she gasped into his mouth.

His other hand found her hip, dragging her against him, and a hard ridge pressed against her. At the meeting of their bodies, he let out a grunt, which only inflamed her more.

She gripped his lapels, as though to drag him still closer—though how much closer they could get, she hardly knew—when the door opened behind them.

Andrew was the first to move. He stepped back so abruptly, she almost stumbled. The dawn air felt cold against her swollen lips.

“I am so sorry,” the nursemaid said, not seeming to notice the tension in the room. “I hadn’t intended to fall asleep for so long.”

Andrew cleared his throat, only half turning to her.

“It is of no consequence,” he said to the nursemaid, his voice stiff. “I will leave William to your capable hands.”

Jessamine pressed her fingers to her burning cheeks, wishing she were anywhere but there. “Goodnight,” she said, and fled as soon as she thought Andrew had returned to bed.

Despite her exhaustion, it was a long time before she could sleep.

Chapter Nine