“Those old things were dragging you down. You’re not a cutslut. And you’re made for more than hand-me-downs, anyway. You’re Royalty. You’re the Duchess.” He tugs me close, leaning down to whisper, “My guiding star.” The kiss isn’t deep and consuming like the ones earlier. This one is pure sweetness, his lips sealing against mine slowly, gently. It isn’t any less hypnotizing. “Mr. Maddox isn’t going to know what to do with you,” he says, offering me his hand as I sling a leg over the motorcycle, “but don’t you think for a minute that I don’t.”
