Her Mystery Duke by Natasha Blackthorne Read Free Book Online Page A

her empty. Leaving her aching.
    She beat at him harder as part of herself stood back,
watching, appalled. This man was ill in her bed. She was supposed to be nursing
him back to health, not demanding pleasure. But she couldn’t stop.
    He shifted then grasped her wrists with each hand. “Darling,
darling, don’t.”
    He held her immobilized. She could hear the faint rasp still
in his breathing. Dear God, even sick, he was strong.
    “Let me go!”
    “Shh…” He leaned close and pressed his lips to her cheek.
“Let me drive you to the destination. You are only to enjoy the journey.”
    Frustration rose and wild energy surged in her. She moaned
and thrashed in his hold. “Let me go.”
    “Jeanne.”
    The deep, silken, sensual sound of her name on his tongue
stilled her. Stunned her.
    He knew it was her. Not his Thérèse.
    She held her breath and stared at him but in the darkness
she could only make out the white of his eyes, the midnight-black forelock
falling over his brow, and the shadowed contours of his cheekbones and jaw
line.
    She struggled against his restraint but he held her firmly.
She’d never faced the situation where a man sought to actually control her
bodily. It should have frightened her. But her limbs seemed to weaken and her
belly fluttered with the most interesting thrills.
    He seemed to notice the lessening of her resistance for he
released one of his hands and shifted to clasp her wrists in one large hand.
“Let me have my way in this.”
    His way. He wanted more than other men had. He wanted to
conquer her. If she let him do this, to make her come undone, he’d be privy to
her deepest secret self. No one could be allowed to see such a private side of
her. When people knew you too deeply, they had an advantage that they could use
at any time to strike at you, to hurt you.
    He released her then touched the shoulder of her shift and
gave it a pluck. “Remove this.”
    “I shouldn’t.”
    “Of course you should.” He sounded a little breathless now.
    This was fatiguing him. Guilt pricked her, distracted her
from her thoughts. “No, I should arise and…work.”
    “Jeanne, I have lain here beside you and felt the tension of
your need.”
    Her heart began to pound. He saw too much. “Please don’t—”
    “It is very arousing to me. I shan’t be able to sleep
without some…resolution.”
    “Resolution?”
    “Yes, resolution for one of us. For you.” He seemed to
forget the matter of her shift for he began to stroke her thigh again. “I am
not capable of more at this moment and for that I am sincerely sorry.”
    There was no trace of arrogance in his expression, instead
his gaze remained open.
    She kept her legs together.
    He traced that tightly closed line from her knees and moved
upwards. “You wanted this a moment ago. What changed?”
    His tender, seeking touch spoke of so many things. It
confused her. What did she want? To remain pristine, private? Or should she
open herself to this experience? What would it feel like to come for a man? To
allow him to share those vulnerable moments?
    He stopped his questing touch at her apex and rested his
hand gently against her. “You’ve experience with men, correct?”
    “I have experience with men but it is not what you are
thinking.”
    “What am I thinking?”
    “I don’t sell my wares on the street or in taverns.”
    The way he froze, the sudden tension in his fingertips told
her that he’d been thinking exactly that. Considering the way he’d woken to
find himself in a bed with her, she could forgive his assumption.
    She didn’t even understand why it had been important to her
for him to know that she wasn’t some tavern whore. It just was.
    “Have you ever come with a man?”
    The question startled her out of her thoughts, sent a cold
ball into the center of her stomach, and killed what was left of her arousal.
To avoid his gaze, she tilted her head back and looked up at the headboard and
studied the worn, dry looking