A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 112 - Hundred And Twelve

Rowan did not step back. He stood right behind her, caging her in. He trapped her between his large, bare body and the solid wood of the door.

"Leaving so soon?" Rowan said.

He leaned down, speaking the words directly over her shoulder. He was looking down at her, his brown eyes dark, intense, and completely serious.

Delaney slowly turned around within the small space he allowed her. She looked up to meet his eyes. Her back pressed flat against the door.

She swallowed hard.

"Heaven help me," Delaney thought to herself.

Her chest was heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. She was entirely overwhelmed by his proximity. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin. She could smell the faint scent of the wine he had spilled, mixed with his own clean, musky scent.

From somewhere far below, drifting up through the floorboards and the thick stone walls, came the faint, melancholy melody of the pianoforte. Lady Celine was playing the sad, beautiful piece her mother had forced her to perform. The music floated into the quiet bedroom, charging the atmosphere with a deep, emotional weight. The contrast was agonizing—the woman he was legally bound to marry was playing sad music downstairs, while he was trapping the woman he actually wanted against his bedroom door.

"Delaney," Rowan breathed.

He lowered his head, pressing his face into the curve of her neck. The soft tickle of his breath against her skin made her gasp.

"I hate Smith," Rowan whispered directly into her ear.

It was a raw, naked confession. It stripped away all his titles, all his duties, and all his polite manners. He was just a man, burning with a jealousy he could no longer contain.

His breath fanned her ear, sending a rush of hot shivers down her arms.

" You just have to bear it." Delaney said, forcing her voice to become steady. " He will be leaving two days from now. Be patient."

Rowan lifted his head. He brought his right hand down from the door and cupped her face. His large, warm palm cradled her jaw gently. His thumb moved forward, slowly and deliberately tracing the soft curve of her lower lip.

Delaney’s lips parted automatically under his touch. Her eyes fluttered half-closed.

"I want to kiss you," Rowan said. His voice was thick, husky, and filled with a desperate starvation.

He did not simply crash his mouth onto hers. He paused. He looked deeply into her hazel eyes, searching for her permission. He was entirely at her mercy.

"May I?" Rowan asked softly. He was asking for her consent.

Delaney could not speak. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it. She looked at his beautiful, pleading eyes and knew she was completely lost.

Delaney nodded her head.

That was all the permission Rowan needed.

He kissed her.

It was a hot, desperate kiss. There was no hesitation, no gentle buildup. His mouth crashed down onto hers with a bruising, overwhelming force. He kissed her like a man who had been wandering in a desert and had finally found water. He tasted of rich coffee and raw, unchecked passion.

Delaney gasped against his lips, opening her mouth to him. He swept inside, tasting her, claiming her with a hunger that stole the breath right out of her lungs. He pressed his body closer, trapping her completely between the hard wood of the door and the firm, unyielding muscle of his bare chest.

But as the kiss deepened, Rowan noticed something.

Delaney’s hands were drawn up between them. They were hovering awkwardly in the air, clenched into small, hesitant fists against the fabric of her own dark green dress. She was kissing him back with fierce enthusiasm, but her hands were hesitating to touch him. She was afraid to lay her hands on the bare skin of a Duke.

Rowan broke the kiss.

He pulled his head back just an inch. He rested his forehead heavily against hers. Both of them were panting, dragging in ragged, uneven breaths of air.

He looked down at her hovering hands.

Slowly, Rowan reached down. He took her small, clenched hands in his large ones. He gently uncurled her fingers until her palms were open.

He moved her hands up. He placed her soft palms flat against the sides of his warm, bare neck. He let her feel the rapid, booming pulse beating beneath his skin. Then, he slid her hands slowly down, guiding them to rest perfectly flat against the hard, sculpted muscles of his bare chest.

Delaney’s breath hitched as she felt the smooth, hot skin under her fingers.

"Don’t ever hesitate to touch my body," Rowan whispered fiercely into her ear. His voice was a dark, possessive command. He wanted her to know that he belonged to her, completely and utterly.

As he spoke the command, Rowan turned his head slightly.

He caught her sensitive earlobe between his teeth. He bit down gently, applying just enough pressure to send a shock of electricity through her system. Then, he opened his mouth and sucked the sensitive flesh.

The wildly improper, incredibly naughty sensation destroyed the last of Delaney’s polite restraint.

Delaney made a soft sound. It was a tiny, breathless moan of pure, helpless pleasure that slipped out from the back of her throat.

Rowan heard that sound. It vibrated straight into his very soul. He decided right then and there that he wanted to hear that exact sound every single day for the rest of his natural life.

The kiss began again.

This time, it became aggressive. Rowan crushed his mouth to hers, sweeping his hands down to grip her waist tightly. Delaney no longer hesitated. She slid her hands eagerly across his hot, bare chest, moving them up to wrap tightly around his neck. She tangled her fingers in his blond hair and pulled him closer, kissing him back with a matching, desperate aggression that promised to wreck her if she continued on that path.