Chapter 6: The Duke’s First Kiss
2065 Words
Eleanor awoke to the weight of something warm and firm against her.
The steady rise and fall of a chest.
A heartbeat beneath her ear.
Her breath hitched slightly as her mind cleared from sleep, the reality of where she was and who she was with settling over her.
She was lying on top of Alexander.
Not beside him.
Not at a distance.
But fully pressed against him, his arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.
Heat spread through her, a slow, creeping warmth that curled at the base of her spine. She had never been held like this.
Never been allowed to be close to someone.
She tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against the fabric of his shirt.
That was when she realized—
He was awake.
His breathing was deep and measured, but his fingers had tightened ever so slightly against her hip.
Eleanor stiffened, attempting to pull away, but the moment she did—his arm locked around her, keeping her firmly in place.
A low hum rumbled through his chest.
"You’re awake," he murmured.
She swallowed hard. "I—"
His grip did not loosen.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, his voice low and thick with sleep.
"You slept well."
It was not a question.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
His lips curved slightly. "Good."
His hold on her did not waver.
And Eleanor quickly realized—he had no intention of letting her go.
She shifted slightly, her leg brushing against his beneath the sheets. The air between them changed instantly, something unseen crackling like a slow-burning flame.
She felt it.
And so did he.
His fingers slid from her hip to her waist, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her nightgown in a slow, teasing motion.
"You’re warm," he murmured.
Eleanor felt her breath hitch.
She had never heard his voice like this before—soft, intimate, completely unguarded.
She swallowed, trying to steady herself. "The fire—"
"Mm," he mused, his fingers trailing slightly lower, barely touching, but enough to make her stomach tighten. "Perhaps."
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Or perhaps," he continued, his breath ghosting against the side of her face, "it’s because you like sleeping in my arms."
Eleanor froze.
Her entire body heated instantly.
She tried to move back, but his grip tightened just enough to keep her where he wanted her.
"Tell me," he murmured. "Do you?"
She swallowed. "I—"
His fingers brushed against the curve of her spine.
Eleanor shivered.
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to deny it.
But that would be a lie.
Because, for the first time in her life—she had slept without fear.
Her silence was answer enough.
Alexander’s smirk deepened slightly.
"I thought so."
And then—he leaned closer.
Eleanor’s breath caught.
He wasn’t touching her. Not fully.
But he didn’t have to.
His presence alone was too much.
His gaze flickered to her lips.
And for a single, heart-stopping moment—she thought he was going to kiss her.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs, her fingers curling into the sheets.
But then—he stopped.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her with something dark and unreadable.
And then, with infuriating ease, he exhaled and released her.
"Get dressed," he murmured as he slid out of bed. "We have things to do today."
Eleanor blinked, still frozen in place.
The moment was gone.
And he had done it on purpose.
A slow, burning frustration built inside her as she watched him walk toward the wardrobe, effortlessly composed.
He had teased her.
He had known exactly what he was doing.
And she had fallen right into his trap.
Eleanor clenched her fists.
Two could play that game.
Eleanor spent the entire morning watching Alexander closely.
She had never been one to play games, but after what he had done earlier—she refused to let him win.
So she started testing him.
It began with small things.
Brushing her hand along his arm just slightly longer than necessary.
Leaning a little closer whenever he spoke.
At first, he seemed unaffected.
But then—she noticed the change.
Whenever she touched him, his jaw tightened slightly.
And when she grazed her fingers over his hand during breakfast, his fork snapped in half.
She barely hid her smile.
Alexander set down the broken silverware, his dark eyes fixing on her with quiet calculation.
"You’re enjoying yourself," he murmured.
Eleanor lifted her teacup. "Whatever do you mean?"
His lips twitched.
But instead of scolding her, instead of putting her back in her place—he did something worse.
He leaned forward.
So close that his lips nearly brushed the shell of her ear.
Eleanor went completely still.
"You’re playing with fire, little wife," he whispered.
She swallowed hard.
Then, with every ounce of willpower she had, she turned her head—meeting his gaze without fear.
"Perhaps I like the heat," she murmured.
His expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Just enough to tell her—she had won.
And then, before he could recover, before he could strike back—
She stood, brushing past him with a quiet, satisfied smirk.
For the first time since she had met him—she had gotten the last word.
That night, the game continued.
Eleanor had expected Alexander to return to the guest room, as he had the first few nights.
But he didn’t.
Instead, when she climbed into bed, he did the same.
She stared at him.
"You’re staying?" she asked softly.
Alexander slid beneath the sheets, his movements slow, deliberate.
"Where else would I go?"
Her heart skipped.
He reached for her then, pulling her against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She didn’t resist.
She didn’t want to.
For a long moment, they simply lay there.
Silent. Steady.
Then—he moved.
Not roughly. Not suddenly.
But slowly.
Deliberately.
His fingers brushed against her jaw, tipping her chin up.
She exhaled softly.
And then—
His lips met hers.
The first kiss was not soft.
It was not careful.
It was possession.
It was a claim.
Alexander kissed her as if she had always belonged to him.
As if he had been waiting for this moment.
As if he had no intention of ever letting her go.
Eleanor sank into him, her fingers curling into his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist.
Her body shuddered beneath his touch.
And just when she thought he might stop—
He murmured against her lips, his voice rough and full of promise.
"You are mine, Eleanor."
The night had settled over Collinwood Manor, casting soft golden hues from the flickering candles along the stone walls.
Eleanor sat near the fireplace in their shared bedroom, her fingers grazing the cool sapphire ring on her finger, the only proof that she now belonged to Alexander Collinwood.
Everything about him was unshakable, unyielding, and utterly consuming.
She was his.
His wife.
His Duchess.
And now, after the events of the day—his plaything.
Not in the cruel sense.
No, Alexander did not treat her as something fragile to be discarded.
Instead, he seemed to delight in watching her squirm beneath his attention.
After teasing her mercilessly all day, after leaving her breathless in the carriage and buying her everything she so much as glanced at, he had acted as if nothing had happened.
And that infuriated her.
She wanted to test him.
To see if he could be pushed.
To see if she could make the unshakable Duke lose control.
She had spent dinner watching him.
Touching his hand lightly whenever he reached for his drink.
Tilting her head just slightly whenever he spoke, giving him her full, undivided attention.
And for the first time—she saw it.
The way his jaw tensed, the way his grip on his glass tightened, the way his dark gaze flickered to her lips far too often.
But he never gave in.
Not once.
Not until they returned to their chambers.
Not until he had her completely alone.
The moment the door shut behind them, Eleanor knew she had won.
Alexander leaned against the wooden frame, his dark gaze fixed on her with something unreadable.
"Tell me," he murmured, voice slow, deliberate. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"
Eleanor swallowed, her fingers brushing over the sleeve of her gown.
She didn’t look away.
"Immensely," she said softly.
His lips curled slightly—not quite a smirk, but something close.
"You’ve been testing me."
Her pulse quickened.
He had noticed. Of course, he had.
But instead of feeling caught, instead of shrinking under his attention—she lifted her chin.
"And?" she asked, feigning innocence.
A dangerous silence settled between them.
Then—
Alexander moved.
Slow. Unhurried.
He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just inches away from her.
Eleanor’s breath hitched.
He was too close.
The warmth of his body, the sharp scent of sandalwood and spice, the weight of his gaze dragging over her—it was too much.
"Do you know what happens to people who test me, little wife?" he murmured, his fingers lifting to trace the edge of her jaw.
Eleanor shivered, but did not step back.
She tilted her chin slightly, letting her lips part just enough to let out a soft breath.
"Are you going to punish me, husband?"
The shift in him was instantaneous.
His dark eyes flashed, his grip tightening just enough to make her breath catch.
Something inside him snapped.
And then—
He kissed her.
---
The first kiss was not gentle.
It was not slow.
It was a claim.
A declaration that there would be no escaping him, no forgetting what she had done to him.
His fingers slid into her hair, gripping firmly as he deepened the kiss, his other hand anchoring her against him.
Eleanor gasped, her hands flying up to grip his coat, clinging to him as if the floor had disappeared beneath her.
Alexander did not hold back.
Did not hesitate.
He kissed her as if she had belonged to him long before this night.
As if he had waited for this moment with aching, restrained desire.
Eleanor’s mind spun.
She had never been kissed before.
Not like this.
Not by a man who kissed as if he was ready to ruin her.
She felt the warmth spread through her, curling at the base of her spine, filling her with a desperate, unfamiliar need.
She wanted more.
More of his touch.
More of his unrelenting control.
And Alexander knew it.
He could feel the way her body melted into him.
Could hear the way her breath quickened whenever he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss until she had no choice but to let him take what he wanted.
It was a warning and a promise all at once.
He would take his time with her.
He would push her.
Tease her.
Break her piece by piece—until she no longer remembered a world without him in it.
He pulled back only slightly, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, "Was that what you wanted?"
Eleanor’s cheeks were flushed, her fingers still gripping his coat.
She took a shaky breath, but she refused to look away.
"Yes," she whispered.
His grip tightened.
"Good," he growled, before kissing her again.
This time, he kissed her slower.
More deliberate.
As if savoring the way her body trembled beneath his touch.
As if committing to memory the softness of her lips, the way she responded to him without hesitation.
Eleanor felt his fingers trail down her back, sending shivers along her skin.
When he finally pulled away, she was breathless.
Alexander studied her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he lifted her hand, brushing his thumb over the sapphire ring.
"You are mine now," he murmured, voice dark and filled with something deeper than desire.
Something unchangeable.
Something dangerous.
Eleanor’s heart pounded.
But she did not deny it.
She did not pull away.
She simply leaned into him, allowing herself to fall into his grasp.
And for the first time—she realized something.
She was no longer just Alexander Collinwood’s wife.
She was his obsession.
And there was no escaping him now.
---
End of Chapter 6
- Writer
