Page 44 of The Duke’s Defiant Love

"Are you nervous now?"

"Considerably."

The distant thrum of the music filtered through the heavy doors, sounding like the steady pulsing of a heartbeat. For Amelia, the world had shrunk down to the heat of Sebastian’s body pressed against hers and the intoxicating scent of cedar and wine clinging to his skin.

Their dance had shifted from a tentative sway to a desperate cling. Sebastian’s hand was firm on the small of her back, pulling her hips flush against his. Amelia let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightened into the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer as if she were drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

She lifted her face toward his, and he closed the last of the distance between them before either of them could think better of it. Sebastian’s tongue swept against hers tentatively at first, testing, and then it was not slow at all.

Her fingers twisted into his coat pullingl him closer, while his hand rose from her waist to cradle the back of her head as the kiss deepened, hungrier than either of them seemed able to control.

She felt the low, urgent sound he made against her mouth, felt her own breath go ragged in answer, and when he walked her back the few steps until her shoulders met the shelves behind her, she went willingly, both hands fisting in his shirt now, holding on rather than pushing him away.

Amelia moaned into his mouth, her head tilting back, exposing the pale line of her throat to his lips. He didn't hesitate, trailing hot, wet kisses down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver.

"Sebastian." His name came out of her on a breath, half warning, half plea, and she wasn't entirely certain which she meant it as.

"Tell me to stop," he said against her jaw, his mouth trailing to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, "and I will."

"I do not want you to stop." The admission left her before she could weigh it, reckless and true, and his mouth found hers again, harder this time.

He slid his hand down from her waist, his palm skimming the curve of her hip. Amelia gasped against his mouth, heat rushing through her leaving her lightheaded Her hips shifted instinctively into his touch, chasing something she had no name for and every intention of finding. The caution she had entered the house with was evaporating, replaced by a searing need that made her blood boil.

Slowly, deliberately, Sebastian began to bunch the fabric upward. The cool air of the library hit her skin, contrasting sharply with the heat of his hand. He pushed the skirt higher, past her knees, until his fingers brushed against the silk of her stockings. He didn't stop there. His hand slid upward, his palm flat against the warmth of her inner thigh, venturing higher toward the center of her heat.

His hand stilled.

"Amelia." Her name came out of him rough, strained, his forehead dropping to rest against hers, both breathing hard in the low lamplight. "If we do not stop now, I do not know that I will be able to stop at all."

The words landed through the haze of wanting him and did their work slowly, sense returning to her by degrees, the memory of her father's face on the terrace the night of the ball rising unbidden, the whole precarious architecture of her reputation balanced on considerably less than this. She shifted her hips back and let her skirts fall back into place, her hands unclenching from his shirt with visible effort.

"We should stop," she said, though her voice betrayed exactly how little she meant it.

"We should." He did not move away immediately, his forehead still against hers, still breathing unevenly in the quiet of the library. "I am not sorry it happened."

"Neither am I." She let herself rest there a moment longer, her hand flat against his chest, feeling his heart beating as unsteadily as her own. "Though I begin to see, rather clearly, why your Circle believes restraint costs a great deal more than anyone admits."

"It costs far more than I believed possible," he said quietly, "until tonight." Neither moved to step back for a long moment more, reluctant to let the small, dangerous world of that library give way to the one waiting on the other side of the door.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Julian got to the library door before anyone else did, and that, Amelia would think later, was the only mercy the evening had left to offer.

Amelia and Sebastian stood several feet apart now, the intensity of what had passed between them still hanging in the air. Neither seemed quite certain what to say next.

Then footsteps sounded in the corridor and Sebastian looked toward the door. Amelia frowned.

"Who is that?"

He did not answer.

The footsteps came closer and Julian appeared. His expression had changed.

"Sebastian."

Sebastian straightened.

"What is it?"