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Then they settled at her worktable. She shot His Grace a small smile, and her heart fluttered when he returned it. He cut up his toast and tentatively placed it in his mouth. Theo chuckled around her bite. Besides burning them, it was fairly difficult to get eggs wrong.

“Not bad, wouldn’t you agree? If this whole duke thing doesn’t work out for you, you may have something you can fall back on.”

He huffed out a snort. “Not certain it works that way.”

She pointed her fork, loaded with cold ham and a bite of toast and egg, at him. “I mean. You are looking for ways to make extra coin.”

“I don’t think that pays quite the way I would need it to.”

She hummed around her bite. “I don’t know. I think people would pay quite a bit to watch a duke fry eggs naked.”

He coughed on his bite. He quickly took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I suppose we do have that to fall back on.”

“An excellent contingency plan.”

“One might even say…sensible.”

They shared a grin.

The meal continued on like that, quips and banter passing between them. She basked in the fact that he was so at ease here with her. Smiles, laughter, every muscle loose and relaxed. It was so easy. So natural. And once finished, they seamlessly stood and tackled cleaning up the kitchen and dishes together.

She finished drying her hands and hung up the dishtowel. “That should do it.”

“Not quite.”

Her head snapped his way. His fingers landed on her hip, and he dragged her to him until she settled between his thighs. She stared up at him. She couldn’t read his expression. “Did we miss something?”

He remained silent, gaze searching hers. The backs of his fingers trailed up her ribs, over the side of her breast, up her neck until he cupped her jaw with both hands. Those grey irises were a warm, shimmering pewter, the softest she’d ever seen them.

“Yes,” he whispered.

He leaned in, breath whispering over cheeks, and her eyes fluttered shut just before his lips landed on hers. Her heart jolted, just like it had the first time he’d kissed her back on that stormy day. A lightning strike to her chest. And it left her paralyzed, her feet and hands frozen in place as everything inside her erupted into chaos. She could do nothing but let him kiss her.

Slowly.

Gently.

Lips brushing over hers. Tongue slipping over the seam of her lips. Tentative. Asking permission. Then sliding inside. An uncomfortable pressure swelled behind her breastbone. Her tongue greeted his, even as that feeling surrounded her heart and squeezed. With every stroke, every nip, every tightening of his fingers on her face, that pressure increased. And that was when she realized what it was: a grip on her heart.

She finally reached for him, hands trailing up his nape and delving into his short curls. She rose on tiptoes and kissed him harder. But it didn’t turn frantic. It didn’t turn urgent. Just deeper. Breath-stealing. Blood-thrumming.

His hands left her face and found the backs of her thighs. In the next moment she found herself sitting on her worktable, her body crushed to his as he somehow managed to deepen their kiss even more. Whatever this was swirled around them. Dangerous. Beyond their control.

Blunt fingernails bruised her lower back, his other hand cupping her head like he was terrified she was going to disappear. And she was the same, her calf wrapped around his thigh like a vine that wouldn’t ever be untangled. Her fingers dug in, held on to him like he was her anchor as they battled the passion trying to drown them both.

“Theodora,” he whispered over her lips before consuming her again.

Her pulse stumbled.

He kissed his way across her cheek and nuzzled into the soft spot beneath her ear. Then lifted, lips skimming her skin. “Theodora.”

Oh God.

She wrenched herself away, lungs surging. She stared blindly at the floor. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. To her. Here.

Fingers lightly stroked under her chin until she finally found the strength to meet his gaze again. A burn built behind her eyes, her chest growing tight. The overwhelm was nearly debilitating.

“Your Grace?” she whispered shakily.