Forbidden Susan Johnson (english love story books txt) 📖

Not precisely resisting, he decided a moment later, as Daisy's spine relaxed under his hand.

Her sensuous yielding had nothing to do with him; she would have responded the same way with any man after all this time, Daisy told herself, as heat spiraled upward from deep inside her, as the sensation of Etienne's arousal brought hurtlingly clear graphic recall of their passionate days together. Any man would do… after nine weeks. Any man. Any man… the litany keeping time with the racing beat of her heart and her kindling flame of desire. Overcome suddenly with exquisite sensation, Daisy felt the quivering fullness of her breasts with such finite sensitivity it seemed as though Etienne's bare chest touched her nipples, as though no clothing separated them.

And a moment later when he lifted her arms one at a time onto his shoulders, instead of resisting, she allowed him to place her hands on the soft wool of his evening jacket because her nipples were stimulated jewel-hard and she wished to experience the abrasive pleasure of moving upward on his chest.

The Duke felt the tautly roused crests because Daisy didn't wear a corset and only the silk of her gown and chemise were barriers to sensation. "Sweet Daisy," he breathed, lifting his mouth from hers, so he could look into her eyes. "I've missed you."

Her smile was spontaneous, seductive. She no longer wished to reason or deliberate, as if the door on cognitive thought had decisively shut with a clang. She wished only to impetuously feel. "I can tell," she whispered, lifting herself on tiptoe to brush his lips with a kiss, moving her hips in a slow inducement of desire. Dropping her dark lashes in languorous approval when Etienne's erection surged in response, she breathed,

"Mmmmm. I remember that."

"I can improve on your memory," Etienne murmured with a smile, sure now they were both in delicious accord, mentally judging the distance to the gigantic bed, gratified to have his darling Daisy back. Bending swiftly, he swept Daisy into his arms and held her for a moment, relishing her closeness.

They smiled at each other, their faces mere inches away, Daisy's cloth of gold skirt billowing over his arm onto the plum ground of the Flemish carpet. Reaching up, Daisy touched the black silk of Etienne's hair, trailing her fingers through the soft waves resting behind his ear, a familiar gesture from their days together. His hair curled more than hers and she used to tease him he was more beautiful. Tonight she was certain of it in the intensity of her desire; in white tie and evening dress, he always took her breath away. Running a fingertip over the heavy arc of his brow, she whispered as she had so many times before, "Are you mine?"

He nodded, his eyes shining brilliant green and happy.

"Etienne! Etienne! Are you in there?" Nadine's voice came through the Circassian walnut door, sharp, clear, and snappish, for she'd discovered from the footman the Duc had gone upstairs with a lady.

"Fuck," the Duc softly swore. "Fuck."

"Precisely what she wants," Daisy acidly muttered, stiffening in his arms. "Put me down," she quietly added, her voice chill as the grave.

The door handle rocked. "I know you're in there, Etienne. Now open the door!" Since the key only locked from the inside, there was no question someone was in the room.

For a brief moment the Duc hesitated, but his anger had dissipated in the sensual warmth of Daisy's response, and with it his rash unconcern for appearances. Resentment had driven him when he'd dragged her up the stairs, an inexplicable alienation and obsession—gone now as swiftly as it had surfaced.

"In a moment!" he shouted, placing Daisy on her feet. "I'm sorry," he quietly murmured.

"Naturally."

"Hell and damnation," he muttered, adding a string of mildly pejorative curses having to do with timing. Daisy's tone meant a thousand more explanations, ten thousand apologies, and had she been a normal woman of normal greed, a king's ransom in jewelry. He smiled then, despite his daunting prospect of penance, because her uncommon femaleness was what most attracted him.

"You find this amusing," she heatedly whispered, incensed at his casual drollery, more incensed she'd almost succumbed to his equally casual seduction.

"Hell, no," he whispered back, grinning.

"I hate you and your degage debauchery."

"I love you, anyway, chou chou, and when I get rid of Nadine, I'm coming looking for you."

"Don't you dare," Daisy whispered, furious she'd given in so readily to his seduction, furious he felt he could so facilely reenter her life.

"You're talking to the wrong person, darling," the Duc murmured, cheerfully looking forward even to penance, "about daring. Now turn around and I'll try to button up your dress in a hurry, because Nadine is going to break the door down soon and there's no way you can reach these buttons yourself. Hold on, Nadine," he shouted, "I'm changing my shirt."

He slipped out the door several moments later with a blown kiss and a broad grin for Daisy, and a conciliatory smile for his hostess.

"Damned if I didn't spill some wine on my shirt front," Daisy heard him mendaciously declare before the door closed completely on his back. "You missed me? How nice. Of course I was alone. The footmen must have seen someone else," he declared, his voice friendly, his hand on his hostess's arm, guiding her away down the hall, his eyes innocent to her speculative gaze. "Tell me about Oliver's ginseng." His grin was mischievous. "Does it really work?"

As they reached the staircase, he exhaled a slow breath of relief over his companion's unsuspecting head. Running raking fingers through his hair, he inhaled in satisfaction and contentment unknown to him for over two months. "Damn nice party, Nadine," he commended. "My compliments on your organizing skills."

Looking up at him as they descended the carved marble staircase, Nadine flirtatiously said, "I've other skills you may enjoy as well, Etienne."

"So I've heard," Etienne blandly replied, evading her double entendre. "My daughter tells me you actually helped the architect