Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 03] by Duke Most Wanted Read Free Book Online Page A

cool-running stream against her bare, summer-heated skin? That was only the innocent sensuality of childhood. What of the satin slickness of hot skin, open lips, the volcanic heat of flesh on flesh?
    His trousers tightened at such thoughts—damn, it hadbeen weeks!—and without realizing it, his fingertips changed their intent from innocent demonstration to practiced seduction. His hand slid down her wrist to the sensitive inner elbow, his touch slow and purposeful.
    Sophie couldn’t breathe. His hands were all she could feel. One pressed her palm to his cheek, tugging slightly but implacably. She gave in instantly, eagerly, unable to do anything else. The other hand was flame on her skin, leaving trails of shimmering embers behind it as it moved higher, until the back of his hand brushed the side of her small breast.
    Her lungs might not be in service but her heart was racing. She felt her skin wrapped about her as she’d never known it before. She could feel the throb of her own heartbeat in her ears, in her throat, in the pulse that fluttered beneath his exploring fingers.
    Wild, furious desire swept her, making her belly tremble and her toes curl inside her slippers. Flesh tightened and throbbed and dampened in ways new and exciting—and frightening, too, for she never wanted it to end. Dreams never dared, wants never acknowledged, longings she had choked and imprisoned burst free, vengeful in their intensity. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think—
    With a flailing motion of her other hand, she pulled the blindfold off. Her eyes flew open, locking gazes with his. Her dry mouth worked to unstick her tongue. “
Please
. . . ”
    The shock of intensity in Sophie’s eyes reverberated through Graham.
All right. Yes
.
    Then . . .
What are you doing, you rotter? Whyare you seducing this girl
—
to take your mind off your debt?
    Oh God, he was a bounder, through and through. Too many hours closeted with her, too many evenings of freedom and casual intimacy. He drew back, shutting away his reaction to her plea, revising it, deliberately misinterpreting it. “Yes, of course. I’m stopping. My apologies.”
    He stood slowly, willing his near-erection to subside before he made it all the way upright. He needn’t have worried, for Sophie’s gaze was now locked on her hands, tightly twined in her lap.
    Fool! Silly, stupid, unrealistic fool!
Thank heaven he’d misunderstood her patent begging. She was obviously not as immune as she’d thought, but she hadn’t realized that she would spread herself on the carpet for him at the slightest touch!
    Why worry about such a thing happening? He was bored
—
playing a child’s game. He doesn’t want you
.
    Graham turned away, ashamed of himself and worse, reminded of what he’d been trying so hard to forget. The brief moment of respite had only made matters worse, for the totality of his situation came crashing down on him like the crumbling stones of Edencourt itself.
    He rubbed both hands over his face. “Ah, Sophie. I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m not myself today, I fear.”
    She cleared her throat behind him. “Why . . .” He heard her move, the rustle of her plain muslin gown moving away from him. As she should, after that display of selfishness on his part.
    She continued. “Why aren’t you yourself?”
    He laughed shortly. “A funny thing happened after I left here last night . . .” He didn’t want to say it out loud. Telling Sophie had a way of making things real—but perhaps it was time to do so. “My father is dead.”
    “Oh, how terrible!” Her voice warmed again, which only made him feel worse. “No wonder you’re not being the Graham I know.”
    That made him laugh out loud, a sharp bark of near hysteria, if she knew the truth of it. “My eldest brother died with him.”
    Now she moved before him, putting a hand on his arm. “Oh, Graham!”
    He covered his mouth with one hand, pressing back more hysteria that pressed upward. Now she was