The door closed with a thud.
Georgina looked around to find herself in Lysander’s chambers, his inner sanctum. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and the more she tried to control her breathing, the more exaggerated it became.
When he turned from the door to pin her with his gaze, her face reddened. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge in his trousers. She had felt it before and knew how large he was.
His eyes blazed like those of a wild beast as he stood before her. Lysander was a man who took what he wanted, and what he wanted now stood directly before him.
“Come here,” he ordered.
Georgina did as she was told and walked over to him.
“Turn around,” he growled.
She could not refuse him. Georgina shuddered under his commands, but not out of fear. His voice ran through her like thunder across the moors during a storm. Her body trembled, every inch alive with heated anticipation for what lay ahead.
She turned away from him and looked at his ample bed. Her breathing slowed down to a soft and shallow rhythm as he took command, and she yielded to his touch.
Lysander was now so close that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating through their clothes. She felt his hands onher back as he untied the ribbons of her dress. Each touch of his fingertips on her bare skin sent ripples of desire through her. She felt her dress loosen from her body with each deft movement.
He peeled the dress from her shoulders with deliberate care, letting it slip down her body and pool in a silken puddle at her feet. Her chemise followed, featherlight, until she stood naked before him.
“Absolutely exquisite,” he muttered, his words sending echoes of warm tingles all over her body.
A breeze drifted in from the window, brushing her skin with a chill that quickly dispelled as his arm slid around her waist, his hand settling across her stomach. He held her there, warmth radiating from his touch, and it sent a slow ache of longing through her body.
She should have felt nervous standing naked before Lysander, but she didn’t. His composure wrapped around her like a cloak, steadying her, and she let herself sink into it. His hand on her skin was no longer just reassuring—it was electric, igniting a slow, delicious heat that spread through her.
“Walk over to the bed,” he instructed.
He released her from his grasp, and she immediately did as he instructed. Georgina walked away from him and swallowed once she stood next to the bed. She slowly turned around and felt his eyes boring into her.
His intense gaze roved up and down her body, and her skin tingled wherever he looked, as though he was physically touching her. He gestured for her to get onto his bed, watching her as she complied.
Again, no nervousness came upon her. She was uncovered and unbothered. The way he looked at her confirmed that he liked what he saw, and the force of his conviction cascaded out of him and into her. She wanted to stay there forever, adored by him, and lost in the depths of his gaze.
She sat down on the bed, then turned and pushed herself up, walking slowly and sensuously on her hands and knees across the soft sheets, giving him ample time to relish every inch of her body.
Lysander let out a low grunt of satisfaction as Georgina’s head sank into the down pillow. Georgina hesitated, unsure where to place her hands. She settled them on either side of her; fingers splayed against the sheets and crossed her ankles in a subtle gesture of restraint.
He unbuttoned and removed his waistcoat, tossing it onto a chair to his right. His shirt followed, revealing his muscular, chiseled chest. It was Georgina’s turn to explore him with her eyes, studying each soft expanse of hair, bead of sweat, and patch of bare skin, as heat coiled low in her groin.
Lysander strode forward to the foot of the bed, towering above her, and ran both hands through his hair, his muscles rippling invitingly across his torso.
“You’re mine now.” His eyes flashed brightly. “Do you understand that, Duchess?”
Georgina could only swallow and nod.
“Say it,” Lysander demanded.
“I’m yours now,” she whispered, gripping the bed sheets with both hands as she spoke.
“Good,” Lysander growled.
He stood there a moment longer before unbuckling his belt. Georgina bit her lower lip as she watched him undress. The trousers fell to the floor with a thud, but that was not what captured her attention. She knew it was impolite to stare, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his manhood. It throbbed before her, eager to be put to use.
Her nipples tightened, her core became taut, and her stomach clenched with anticipation. She breathed heavily through her nose as her eyes traced the length of his shaft, yearning to feel it deep within her, yet uncertain of the discomfort that might follow. She swallowed again and licked her dry lips nervously.
“You are mine, and that means I won’t hurt you,” Lysander promised.
