Page 70 of Unbound Duchess

“Well,” he said after a long moment, “I suppose I should allow you to get on with your day.”

He moved to take a step toward the doorway, but unable to stay still any longer, Ellen rushed toward him, wrapping her hand around his arm. As her fingers dug into the fabric of his jacket, she felt his muscles tense beneath, and a flash of their last moment together arose in her mind. Her grip tight around his muscled forearms, her head thrown back in ecstasy, their moans of pleasure ringing throughout his study.

She let go of him as if he’d burned her, a deep crimson blush blooming into her cheeks.

“Wait, please,” she implored quietly.

Laurence’s gaze remained on the floor for a moment longer before it slowly drew up to her face. A flash of longing sparked in his green pools before they settled back into their usual sternness.

“Is there something you need, Ellen?”

His tone was not exactly cold, but it was numb, and she flinched at it.

“You said you would not ignore me anymore,” she replied, and hated how childish she sounded. Like a child whimpering for a toy that had been taken away.

“I am not ignoring you,” he replied coolly.

Annoyance flared through her.

“Avoiding me, then,” she retorted. “Because you are avoiding me. I thought we had an understanding?”

Laurence’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing. She wondered then how often he locked such a chiseled jaw, and how much more pressure his teeth could take before he’d grind them to dust. It was more often than not she caught that little nerve below his right ear twitching away, and she wondered when that tether would snap too.

“I do not love you, Ellen,” he said quietly.

He had said it before, and she’d felt nothing. In fact, she had laughed at him. Now though, a wave of unwelcome hurt passed through her.

“I am well aware,” she answered, trying to sound nonchalant, “and I do not love you. However, you must admit, something is forming between us.”

His eyes were dilated and full of hunger as he finally looked at her, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

“It is called lust, and it is dangerous,” he gritted out. He shook his head, and his nostrils flared, as if he were a wolf scenting his prey in the air. “What happened last time was…”

He shook his head, as if he did not want to say the word.

“Dangerous,” he finally punched out. “I have never lost myself with a woman the way I lost myself with you. The things I did. The things I still want to do to you. They are monstrous. And after everything you have already gone through with Benedict⁠—”

“You are not Benedict,” she said, cutting him off.

She reached for him, not giving him a second thought, and captured his jaw as she stepped closer to him. There was a sudden rage seething through her blood. She did not know why it was there or where it came from, but it was so hot it could not be ignored.

“Do you hear me?” she demanded, staring deep into his eyes. “You are nothing like that man.”

Something softened in Laurence’s gaze. Guilt? Fear?

“Not yet,” he rasped, slowly bringing his hand up to wrap around hers. “But you bring something out in me. Something that terrifies me.”

He pulled her hand away, brushing his lips across the heel of her palm as he did so, and sent sparks flying through her veins.

“You deserve gentleness. Sweetness,” he continued, his deep voice raw with ache. “And every moment we spend together, I find myself pulling further away from those things and drawing more toward something more untamed.”

Lightning forked through Ellen’s veins, sending volts of dark desire licking down to harden her nipples and draw wetness between the apex of her thighs.

“And what if I enjoy those untamed things?” she breathed, her fingers closing around his. “If I want to receive them as much as you want to give them?”

Laurence’s pupils dilated further, eating away at the green she was starting to adore.

“Do you want to sell me?” she asked, feeling emboldened by the look in Laurence’s eyes.