Page 47 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

“Your Grace,” she murmured.

“Philip. My name is Philip,” he hissed at her and grabbed hold of her hand. “This way.”

“You expect me to follow every order you make now, do you?” she asked, following behind him as he pulled her into his study.

She could not remember ever being in this room before. She tripped on the edge of the rug though he didn’t reprimand her for it. He took a tighter hold of her hand, preventing her from falling flat on her face.

“Not every order, no,” he said, his tone growing deeper by the second. “But some… definitely.”

“I have no intention of abiding by orders,” she replied, tearing her hand out of his grasp.

He kicked the door shut behind them then grabbed the nearest chair and jammed it under the door handle, preventing anyone else from being able to get in.

“You abided by this one,” he observed, moving back toward her and dropping his tailcoat into the nearest chair. “Just curious, were you?” He bent toward her. “Or were you ready to start begging me again as you did in that carriage?”

“You arrogant man,” she seethed.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

A thought crossed her mind. She could do as Tabitha suggested. She could deny giving him anything in the interest that they could one day annul the marriage, but the way his eyes were raking up and down her was making excitement coil in her stomach. That wetness he could so often cause pooled between her legs again.

Without thinking what she was doing, she slowly backed up. He stalked her, moving toward her like a predator.

“You intend to consummate in here?” she said in outrage, waving a hand toward the study around them. “I will not do that.”

“No?” He looked amused at the idea, sliding his hand across her waist when she could go no further and found herself trapped between him and the desk. “I rather like the idea of being in that chair with you straddling me, Grace.” His words sent a thrilling shiver up her spin. “But no. The first time I take you completely, I want you in that bed upstairs.”

“Then… why are we here?” Her gut knotted tight. There was something incredibly disappointing about the thought that he wasn’t going to take her now. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to get some release to the ache between her legs. He clearly caught sight of what she was doing.

He shifted one of his hands to the desk behind her, leaning toward her as his eyes watched the skirt of her gown. He placed his hand on her thigh, just as he had done that night in the carriage. It was a firm hold that slinked higher and higher up her leg, the fingers caressing her hip.

Grace placed both palms behind her on the desk. She told herself she would not touch him. She would not be desperate for his touch, weak as she had been that night in the carriage.

“No begging today?” he whispered, bending toward her, moving his lips to the curve of her neck. When he bit down on the curve, she gasped. Her heartrate had just increased tenfold, and that throbbing had started between her legs.

“No,” she said with more vigor than she felt.

“Shame. Maybe I’ll have to remind you of the taste of desire first.” Then he lifted his hand and crushed his lips against hers. The moment his tongue slid against her own, Grace wondered why she was trying to resist him at all. She kissed him back, fiercely, as he took hold of her hips and lifted her onto the edge of the desk.

She perched on the very edge as he took hold of both of her knees and parted them wide, settling his body between hers. His hips rubbed against her own as they kissed, his hardness so obvious that she moaned into the kiss.

He took hold of the lacy skirt and dragged it increasingly upward. Hooking his fingers around one of her stockings, he dragged it down her leg, exposing her whole thigh, then ran his palm up the bare skin inside her thigh.

“Grace,” he whispered, between their kisses. “Do you want to wait for tonight?” he asked, pure taunt in his voice.

“Don’t torture me,” she ordered him. He chuckled against the skin of her neck, moving further and further down her body. He tipped her back, urging her to lay down over the ordered papers on his desk.

She caught sight briefly of how everything had its place. The papers were stacked neatly, the inkwells lined up, but with her splayed across the top, that illusion of neatness was ruined.

“Do you want to wait?” he teased her again, one of his hands reaching high under her skirt to the very bottom of her stays. He was pulling on them now, showing her how much he’d like to rip them off her body. His other hand lifted higher still between her legs.

With nothing hiding her body, she knew if he looked down, he would see the most private part of her, the part that was now wet, needing him. His fingers brushed the very edge of her, his forefinger curling into her center.

Grace had to bite her lip not to cry out at the sudden touch. It was a brief pleasure, but pleasure, nonetheless. It was the promise of more.

“Your Grace,” she begged.

“No,” he ordered, his voice dark as he bent over her a little more. His finger retreated then moved forward again. “Say my name, Grace.”

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