The Duchess's Next Husband. Terri Brisbin
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again. “I would join you in your chambers. If you have no objections?”
Would she refuse him? He would never force himself or his attentions on her, but prayed in the next several seconds that she would not rebuff his request.
“If you would give me a few minutes to prepare, I will be ready for your…” Now it was her turn to trip over her words, and he lightened inside. She looked away and then back at him. As he watched, the tip of her tongue slid out and moistened her lips as though they had gone dry. A pulsation of desire racked his body and he found that his breathing was becoming too quick.
“I shall visit you in a quarter hour, if that is acceptable?” How he forced the words out, he would never know.
She nodded and then reached for the doorknob. He did not move as she stepped backward into her room, closing the door in a swift but quiet movement. He wrestled with the passion that flowed through him and leaned against the wall next to her door, waiting to regain some measure of control before moving away.
A quarter hour was not too long a wait.
Miranda closed the door and rested her head on it, not daring to turn toward her waiting maid. She knew her cheeks were flushed and that her lips were swollen from Adrian’s attentions. But the worst, the absolute worst, was that her breasts were also swollen and her nipples tight and hard, and she could feel the friction of them rubbing against her shift, above the stays that held her breasts in place.
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