Page 39 of The Duchess Games

“She kicked our turtle! She might have damaged his shell!” The moment he set her down, she whirled and went for the door.

It did not open.

Callum surged forward, large hand flattening against the door. “Settle,” he growled. He towered over her, enveloped her. She struggled again, partly out of curiosity. Partly because being told to settle made her fume. He slid his leg between hers, edging them apart slightly, his boot planted against the door, holding it closed effortlessly. Her reaction was immediate, and very, very thorough. Heat chased down her spine, up her thighs. Warmth pulsed through her quim.

Behind her, his breath turned ragged. “Why are you damp? And… wearing that?”

It was hard to find her voice. She wanted to arch back against him like a cat. “Someone stole my clothes.”

“I beg your pardon.” The cold snap of his voice should have doused the lust moving through her.

It absolutely did not.

It was hard and unforgiving as ice, promising the same merciless end. Not against her but against anyone who might have harmed her. “Who?” he demanded.

“I can’t be sure,” she admitted.

“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced. And he was closing the very tiny spaces left between their bodies, so it was difficult to concentrate. The perfect juxtaposition of Callum Winter and the Duke of Tremaine: fire and ice.

“She may have stolen my clothes, but I don’t care about that. It’s a petty tantrum. But she hurt a creature who posed no threat to her, Callum. That second kick was deliberate.”

“I will handle it.”

“I can handle it myself.”

“Cat, if you assault a guest, my mother will drive you out of here with pitchforks and torches. She will shred your reputation.”

“I don’t care,” she replied mutinously, even though she knew he was right. And that she should care. Her smuggling plans would certainly care.

“I care,” Callum said darkly. “When will I have the chance to see you again? Even if only across a drawing room? It’s been ten years.” He sounded desperate, wrecked like a boat against the rocks. “Longer.”

Something caught in her throat. Something suspiciously like want and need and wonder. “I didn’t think you remembered that. Not really.”

“Remember it?” He all but growled. “It’s been the air I breathe.”

She swallowed, aching all over. Stunned. Nervous. Desperate for this to be simpler than it was. “Callum.”

“I’ve already stood up in front of God and country to sing a sea shanty like a lovesick fool,” he muttered. “Don’t let it be for naught. Not if this is all I ever get.”

If she didn’t turn around, if they didn’t look each other in the eye, they could pretend this had never happened. That it meant nothing. Complicated nothing.

Because it meant everything. She knew it did. How could it not? And yet, she couldn’t let it make a difference. Not outside this little room.

But inside this little room?

She shifted sightly, pressing back against the hardening of him. He groaned, both hands splayed against the door on either side of her head. His mouth touched her neck, teeth scraping. She made a little sound in the back of her throat. She couldn’t help it. Tingles awoke under his lips and darted lower, right between her legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin.

“Absolutely not,” she shot back before she could think of something much more sophisticated to say. Before she could remember all of the very good reasons why this was a very bad idea.

He smiled, flicking his tongue behind her ear until she thought she might melt. Or burst. She reached behind blindly, trying to bring him closer. She clutched at his hip. She was starting to feel a little wild. “Don’t stop.”

He trapped her wrists together in his left hand, keeping them still and pressing them to the door above her head. Everything about it made her wet. Desperate. So desperate.

Especially when he added, dark and gruff. “I thought I told you to settle.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” She had no notion as to why she wanted to push back, wanted to tease and test until he made her gasp his name. Until they had no choice but to give in, despite logic and good sense.