Natalie's body stiffened as she watched the Duke lift his thumb to his lips. He tasted the wine smeared there, his tongue sliding across his skin with an air of casual arrogance. A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his throat. The sound, so intimate and improper, sent a shiver racing down her spine. Her stomach twisted, and she clasped her hands tightly in front of her.
"What are you doing?" she managed to ask, though her voice came out softer than she intended, betraying her unease.
"Relax," he said, his tone unbothered, almost lazy. His smirk widened, drawing attention to his well-formed lips. "I'm not going to devour you, Natalie. Just helping, that's all. No need to look so skittish."
Her breath hitched as his gaze lingered on her mouth, dark and heated, as though he was in a trance. The sight unnerved her. Raphael had always been aloof, a man of rigid discipline and propriety. Not once in the years she had worked for him had he behaved this way.
"You have beautiful lips," he said, the words falling with disarming confidence.
"Your Grace, I don't think—"
"I just paid you a compliment," he interrupted smoothly, leaning back as though he owned the moment. His smirk grew, a perfect curve of arrogance. "You're supposed to thank me. It isn't every day a duke offers praise, you know."
Her spine straightened as indignation took hold. "Your compliment was inappropriate."
His smirk deepened, his dark grey eyes gleaming with amusement. "Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?"
"No," she replied stiffly. "I'm merely pointing out facts."
"Really?" he murmured, leaning forward ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "What facts, precisely?"
Her mouth opened to answer, but the words froze on her tongue when he leaned closer. She barely registered the movement before his lips pressed lightly against her cheek. A gasp escaped her as warmth blossomed where his lips had touched, spreading like wildfire through her body.
Her cheeks burned crimson, mortification sinking its claws into her. She should push him away. She should shout. But her limbs refused to obey, weighed down by something she can't describe. Perhaps the wine had dulled her senses, she thought wildly.
His lips brushed over her cheek again, slow and deliberate, his breath hot against her skin. "Well, go on," he murmured, his voice low and velvety, sending goosebumps rippling across her arms. "I'm waiting to hear these facts."
"I…" Her throat felt dry, the words tangling on her tongue. "I…"
Her breath hitched as his lips grazed the hollow of her collarbone, lingering with maddening slowness. Her hands flew up, intending to shove him away, but when her fingers tangled in his hair, she froze. The strands were softer than she'd imagined, silk sliding between her fingers. To her horror, her fingers explored on their own accord.
He must have taken her touch as encouragement because his hands settled on her waist, tugging her forward until she was perched on his lap. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she realized just how inappropriate their position had become.
"Your Grace...."
"Raphael," he corrected, his voice a low rumble against her skin.
"What?"
"Call me Raphael."
"I can't," she stammered, her voice trembling. "You're my duke. It's improper."
"Improper?" His lips quirked into a smirk against her shoulder. "I make the rules, Natalie, and I can break them too. Here, right now, We're just Raphael and…" His voice trailed off, waiting.
"Natalie," she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice.
"Natalie," he repeated, her name rolling off his tongue like a caress. A shiver coursed through her at the way he said it, each syllable laced with something dark and magnetic. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. "A lovely name for a lovely woman."
She felt her resolve slipping, crumbling under the weight of his presence. His hands on her waist, the heat of his body pressed against hers, and the way his grey eyes bore into her—it was too much.
"Call me Raphael?" he murmured, his voice soft but commanding.
Her lips parted, the word trembling on the edge. "Ra...Raphael."
The sound of her voice seemed to drive Raphael wild. He pulled back slightly, his hands cupping her face.
His grey eyes were dark with intensity as he studied her.
Raphael... " she whispered again. The name tasted like sinful sweetness on her tongue.
'God, I love the way you say my name with that sweet mouth,' he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she barely noticed when his lips found hers. The world blurred, the only thing she could feel was him—his lips, his warmth, his touch. It was the first time in her life that a man had ever kissed her.
She felt his hands, large and strong, slide down the contour of her back, pulling her flush against him. The feel of his body against hers, his solid strength, only fueled the fire that burned within her.
He nipped at her lower lip, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending shivers through her body. She gasped but it was swallowed by his mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips to explore her further.
His lips met hers with a slow intensity, the warmth of his breath mingling with the sweetness of her mouth. The tip of his tongue traced the soft curve of her lips, then explored the inside of her mouth in slow, deliberate movements making her feel dizzy. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the rhythm of their kiss, a pulse that grew stronger with every breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest at the strange yet pleasant sensations.
He pulled away for a second but Natalie held onto his hair and kept him in place. Raphael chuckled and gently pried her hands off his hair. He kissed her with gentle bites and nips, as if her mouth were an exotic delicacy to savor.
She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All she could do was feel, each touch and sensation consuming her completely. It was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so right... like it was only truth she had ever known.
"I want you,"he murmured against her lips. "More than I should. In ways I should not, Natasha."