Page 77 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

He moved away from the racking and came close to her.

“Do you understand now?” he pleaded. “Do you understand why it angers me so much?”

“You fear pain?” she whispered.

For you.

He didn’t say these words aloud though. To admit to them was a weakness. It would be giving his heart to her much more than he had planned to.

Instead, he leaned toward her and kissed her on the forehead. It was the softest of kisses, butterfly like, gentle.

“Please,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plead with me,” he urged, moving his lips down her face. “I will give you what you want again.”

Her hands were on his chest again. Despite the fact he knew he should pull back, that if he didn’t want to get in too deep with Grace, he should step away now and not make love to her again, suddenly, it was happening.

He was kissing her, capturing her lips with his own. The kiss was fierce, yet slow. Her arms rose and wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer toward her.

He molded his body to hers, hardly caring that her dress was wet. He just needed to be closer to her. When his hands brushed her hips, and she gasped into his kiss, he lost all self-control.

He pulled back sharply.

“Philip?” she whispered, nearly losing her balance as he backed away from her. “You’re leaving?” she asked in surprise as he marched back toward the door.

“No chance,” he said sharply. He kicked the door shut. There was no lock on his door, so he settled himself with grabbing a chair and stuffing it under the door handle to make sure none of his staff could enter the room, then he moved back toward Grace. “Dress, off.”

She reached for the laces of the gown, doing as he asked, but he was impatient, desperate to feel her skin against his own again. He went to help her, their fingers fumbling together.

They kept kissing each other, unable to stay away. Each kiss practically burned him. In fact, he felt as if he was burning up from the inside out. Grace had this effect on him, something he had hardly ever expected the first night he had ever met her, but that was what Grace had always done.

From that night when she had fallen in his pond, she had continued to surprise him. This heat was no different.

He pulled the gown off her, hearing tearing sounds, for he pulled at the riding habit with such vigor though to his relief, she didn’t complain. When she was free of the dress, he turned her around, desperate to touch her. The corset accented her curves perfectly, and he fantasized about keeping it on her today. He chose to live out that fantasy, gripping her waist as he urged her toward the wall of the sports room.

“Hold onto the racks,” he pleaded with her.

She did, her fingers curling around the racks as he raised her chemise about her hips, bundling it across her waist. The moment her rear was exposed, he started exploring her, his fingers gripping her bare hips then reaching down, teasing between her legs.

She gasped, pushing back toward him, tempting him toward her.

He forgot all thought of pain from those scandal sheets. He didn’t even think about how deep he was falling for Grace. All he thought of now was this moment, this heat, Grace’s touch.

When his fingers found her center, she was already wet for him. He slid in easily, watching as her back arched and her head threw back. His other hand reached forward, and he gripped the back of her hair, toying with those honey tendrils. She rocked into his hand, clearly desperate for more pleasure. He rocked his fingers into her, watching as her body shuddered around his touch.

If I had known it could be like this…

He was wondering what could have happened if he and Grace had started exploring such things years ago. How well would they know one another’s bodies by now if they had been exploring for years?

He rocked into her faster, watching as her back arched all the more.

“Please,” she started to beg him again. “Please, Philip.”

“Tell me,” he ordered quietly. “Tell me what you want.” He released her hair, trailing his fingers down the back of her neck, between her shoulder blades, and then to that perfect arch of her back.

“You,” she whispered, gasping as he curled his fingers inside of her.

That breathy word was his undoing.

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