"Speak something, wife! Why are you taking so many steps back? Are you fearing me? I don't think so. Your expression betrays you, the way you keep darting glances at my lips as if you're stealing forbidden glimpses," Duke Alexavier said, his voice husky as the Duchess stood braced against the wall.
"Is it your approval you long for? Should I take it as your silent acquiescence? Or are you waiting to utter the words that grant me your consent?" Duke smirked, his thumb gently grazing her lower lip.
"These soft, pillowy lips, the color of a sunrise breaking through fresh-blown roses, drive me maddeningly wild each night. I lose myself in their enigma. Every time I close my eyes, they appear before me, a constant reminder of your presence, their whispers teasing my senses."
