To Dare the Duke of Dangerfield by Bronwen Evans Page B

was driving him insane, calling to his blood like a bewitching song.
    He could think of nothing else. He had to take her. Claim her. Make her his. Forever.
    With real reverence he stroked one hand down her body, tracing the curves of her breast, the indent of waist, the flat plane of her stomach, before sinking his fingers in the soft, black curls at the apex of her thighs. Her legs parted, allowing him access to the treasure within.  
    He hesitated. Gave her one last chance.
    “Caitlin, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life, but if we do this, there is no turning back. Understand? You will marry me. Agreed?”
    “Harlow.”
    The way she moaned his name was the only permission he needed. He did what he’d dreamed of doing the moment he’d first seen her in trousers. Lifting one tiny foot, he began kissing up her leg. The heady scent of her arousal urged him to rush. But he took his time; she deserved at least that.
     
    Caitlin’s last few nights had been filled with restless dreams. Dreams about Harlow and what it would be like to give herself to him. Reality was so much… more.  
    He looked like a conquering warrior. The living, breathing definition of irresistible.
    His massive arousal throbbed against her thigh and her hips twisted, wanting to answer its call. Passion drummed a beat in her brain. She could think of nothing else—no one else—but the man, tenderly pressing kisses up her thigh.
    She was lost and drowning in a sea of desire. It was beyond anything she could have imagined. And it was wonderful.
    From the moment she’d thought up this hare-brained wager, she’d been determined to resist him. Now she asked herself why? Now there was only the honeyed sweetness of his gaze, the fiery need of his touch, and the fierce primal wanting he had awakened in her.
    All her fear about the price she’d pay for this one sweet moment fled as his lips trailed higher up her thigh.
    Her breath rasped as he moved to kneel between her parted legs, and when he lifted his head and gazed up her body to meet her eyes, his face was gravely worshipful.  
    “You are an exquisite woman,” he whispered hoarsely. “You will make a fine duchess. I’m honored that you have chosen me as your first, and I promise to make it memorable.”
    Her position afforded her a breath-taking view as her warrior leaned down to set her skin ablaze once more. At the touch of his lips, she lay back and half closed her eyes, and put her resistance aside once and for all. Becoming a duchess was no punishment, especially as Mansfield Manor could still be passed to her daughter.
    His lips were hot against her damp skin. Anticipation sent a series of tremors ricocheting through her, but it did not prepare her for what he did with his tongue. Gently, he parted her folds and his lips tasted the very heart of her womanhood. His tongue slid through her curls and licked the most intimate part of her, until she could no longer think.
    She could not believe that he was kissing her there, let alone that she was letting him. It was mortifying, yet at the same time she knew she’d beg him to continue if he tried to stop.
    The sensations his clever tongue roused in her made her eyes roll back, her hips lift, and a desperate moan escape her lips.
    When he draped one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her wider to his ministrations, her body exploded with need, and want, and desire.  
    Caitlin’s fingers threaded through his curls, tangling in their damp softness as she clutched his head, urging him closer.  
    She hovered on an airy precipice, her soul teetering on the edge of nothingness. The sensations overwhelmed her and she heard herself cry out his name. “Oh, Harlow. Oh, God.”  
    Her limbs went taut, her body shook, and she felt as if she were losing her mind to the pleasure. Then his wicked tongue entered her and she spasmed, and plunged over the edge, writhing against his mouth, her fingers clutching his hair in the sweet,