Chapter 8 #2
Prim looked at the garden without answering him. She felt anger rise from the pits of her stomach to her flamed cheeks. That maddening man dared to speak so freely of things he should not have mentioned.
“Miss Jenkins, I can hear your irritation.”
“I said nothing.”
“You don’t need to. The way you look at the garden, I am surprised the poor roses are not withered yet,” Leo chuckled.
“Again, it has been such an honor to be a source of entertainment for His Grace.”
“Unfailingly so.”
“Is this why you ushered me out here? To insult me? Are you done, or may I sit around to fulfill my role as a jester to your court?” Prim’s rose was so icy that she, too, wondered if she really was a threat to the rose garden.
“I was merely offering a much-needed critique of your flirting skills.”
“No one asked you for such a critique.”
“Why not? I am, as rumors have it, an expert on the subject.”
Prim was one moment before snapping in a feat of rage that would surely be heard throughout the vast estate. She was shaking with anger, and her palms were in curls by her side.
The sudden need to scream, stomp, throw something came over her. She had never felt such a profound ire in her whole life. And all the while, he was gazing upon her with that lazy, easy way, his body leaning back on the marble handrail. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“Very well, Your Grace,” she said in a voice so saccharine, it was obvious it was fake. “Would you care to enlighten me on the art you so well possess?”
Leo tilted his head, accepting her open challenge. He moved closer to her, clearly to unsettle her. it was her anger that gave her the resolve that she needed.
“First of all,” Leo leaned in. “You kept looking at the man anywhere but his eyes. Men like to be seen.”
Prim nodded too earnestly.
Leo chuckled.
“Then your smile. So strained it was almost painful to watch. I know he wasn’t nearly entertaining, hell, the man was barely alive, but you could have tried a warmer smile.”
“Warm smile. Noted,” Prim said, full of sarcasm.
“And lastly, your conversation. Granted, Nathaniel was not giving much other than those one-word, dreadful responses, but you could have coaxed him. Nathaniel is a lot, but he is an intelligent man. He would have responded.”
“Is that all?” Prim smiled in sweet irony.
“Just what I could think of on the top of my head,” Leo leaned back to the handrail.
“So, I should look at a gentleman to make him feel seen, smile to make him feel at ease, and talk to make him feel intelligent.”
Leo narrowed his eyes and smirked dangerously.
“A crude summary but accurate.”
“Let’s see if I understand,” Prim said softly.
She swayed closer to him, her anger still fanning the flames in her eyes.
“First, make him feel seen,” Prim said
She looked the Duke in the eyes and held his gaze. She saw the arrogant arch of his brow soften in a restrained frown.
“Then, the smile, am I correct?”
Prim swayed closer, and her lips dropped the fake smile. They now curved with a daring intent, a dangerous smirk that mirrored his.
“Now, talk to make him feel intelligent,” Prim said, even closer now. “I am afraid even the most skilled flirt would fail at that when it comes to you.”
She saw the moment Leo realized that he was not in command that particular moment and basked in it.
“Thankfully, I have other flirting techniques.”
Before Leo could react, Prim stood on the tip of her toes, her hands steadying her on his chest. And kissed him lightly on the lips.
It was quick and awkward. Because, all bravado aside, Prim had never flirted before and had certainly never kissed a man. A mere stamping of her lips on his, hasty and sloppy, that’s what it truly was.
When she leaned back, Leo looked at her with surprised astonishment. But that didn’t last long. His eyes hooded and darkened, laced with intent. He leaned to her slowly, deliberately, as if claiming every inch between them, his look flicking from her eyes to her lips.
Prim realized in terror why one should never make decisions based on anger.
She allowed her temper to poke the lion’s den, and the lion was awakened.
Her heart raced as his hand raised to catch her chin.
Fire spread throughout her body, her knees got weak.
She toyed with forces beyond her comprehension.
“Oh, Miss P.J.,” his voice was smooth, a low purr that made her pulse spike. “That was… cute.”
Prim knew she definitely needed to be insulted. But she didn’t get the chance. His fingers tightened on her chin, just enough to know that she was no longer in the helm.
“Now.”
The word meant that he indulged her too long. Now he was going to show the kind of lion she was poking. He leaned closer, his smell, that faint smell of something earthy and citrusy at the same time, filling her.
“How about I show you how it’s done, Miss P.J.?”
Prim didn’t even have the time to react when he claimed her.
There was no other word for his descent upon her.
His mouth captured her with such intensity, Prim dropped her reticule and all her resistance with it.
His lips seized hers in a slow, demanding kiss, taking her upper lip first, then lazily moving to her lower.
She swayed, balance too much for her to sustain.
Her hands went to his chest, her fingers crumbling the lapels of his suit in desperation.
Even that was not enough when his velvet tongue licked the seam of her lips.
Prim moaned in both surprise and something even deeper. One languid lick more, and Prim gasped.
She felt the smile carve on his lips when he ventured forth and met her.
His tongue slid across hers in slow, deliberate moves, exploring her.
Her body reacted before she could think.
She met him, timidly at first, testing how he felt in her mouth.
And then greedily, starving. Prim felt her knees give, unable to keep standing after that conquest.
He held her, his hand pulling her by the waist to him, the space between them erased. He took a small step forward to trap her against the marble handrail. His hand moved from her cheek, his thumb high on her cheekbone, his fingers brushed her ear to cradle her head.
Prim sighed at the possessive touch, the battle in her mouth momentarily forgotten.
She leaned into that touch, her lips moving to claim more.
Leo was determined to undo her completely, and he angled his head to kiss her deeper.
Sweet shiver ran down her back, coiling low in her stomach, a sigh leaving her lips, her fingers curling on his chest.
Then it was over. He grumbled lowly and eased back.
Prim didn’t have much experience, in fact, she had no experience, but she knew that he didn’t want to stop.
It was in the way his arm was still holding her, tighter now than before.
It was in how his lips lingered so close to hers.
It was in the storm in his eyes as he kept fixating on her mouth.
“That,” he growled, “was a real kiss.”
It was not a mocking quip about her previous attempt.
In fact, he didn’t seem to be speaking to her at all, but to some internal, furious logic.
The kiss hadn’t been a conquest or a calculated move in their game.
It had been a lapse. A complete and total suspension of strategy.
Prim, through the haze this onslaught of sensations brought, could see it in the stark frustration on his face.
The Duke of Mildenhall wasn’t surprised by a simple kiss, he was troubled by it. This raw, unplanned hunger for her was a complication he couldn’t afford inside the carefully constructed walls of their arrangement.