Page 72 of The Devil's Deceit
“You are beautiful, my sweet Duchess, and I don’t just mean physically. There’s something about you that I can’t put into words.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I say nothing. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him close to me, pulling him in for a kiss. Feelings course through me—scary feelings I can’t let myself acknowledge. He pushes inside me in a single thrust, groaning as my walls clamp around him.
“Feel so good,” he mumbles. “Best ever, Grace. Best fucking ever.”
I lose myself in the press of his body, the smell of his skin, the hitches of breath and incoherent mutterings. Closing my eyes, I pretend he isn’t who he is, I’m not hiding who I am, and this is real. That we married for love, not for convenience in his case and revenge in mine. That this isn’t going to end in disaster with me possibly on the run for my life, clutching the truth in my hands, hoping it was worth the sacrifice.
He shifts his weight, making a little space between us, and flicks my clit without breaking stride. His bicepbulges with the effort of holding his weight on one arm, and his abdomen ripples as his core holds him steady. I reach between us, feathering my fingertips over each ridge of muscle.
Bracing himself on both arms again, he angles his hips, and with every inward thrust his groin grazes my clit. His mouth clamps over my nipple, and he sucks. This time, I get no warning of my impending climax. I see stars, actual stars, and every bone in my body melts, leaving me limp and coated in sweat.
Christian groans through his own release, collapsing onto me for less than two seconds before rolling off to one side. He braces one hand behind his head and caresses my inner thigh with the other.
“Fuck, that was…”
“Incredible,” I offer.
“I’m not sure there’s a word for it.” He brushes his thumb back and forth. “I want you to do something for me.”
I shift onto my side, and he does the same. “What?”
Capturing a lock of my hair, he wraps it around his finger. I hope that isn’t symbolic, because that’s how I feel. Like he’s wrapped me around his finger, and I know that when I’m forced to wrench free, it’s going to hurt like hell.
“Stop mentioning the whole boredom thing. I don’t like it.”
I frown. “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure that it is, no. Not anymore. I’m catching feelings over here, and I’m not interested in an antidote. You’re different. I’m different when I’m with you.” He unwinds the lock of hair and picks up another, repeating the action. “You make me feel as though I can be myself around you. I don’t have to pretend.”
It takes a second for the comment to land, and when it does, I’m stunned. “Why would you need to pretend anything?”
“Because.” He hitches a shoulder. “It isn’t easy being a part of this family. I’m surrounded by brilliance, expectation, and a dozen other things that keep me on my toes in case I drop the ball somewhere along the way and royally fuck up. It’s happened before, and I managed to fix it, but I might not be so lucky next time.”
My heart starts pounding, going from a post-sex ninety beats a minute to one eighty in the space of a second. Could he be talking about Nexus? Do I dare, after what happened the last time I mentioned it, bring it up again?
I cup his cheek and give him my full attention, hoping my eyes are shining with sincerity rather than deception. “Nexus?” I hold my breath, waiting for him to push me away, to launch out of bed and scream at me never to bring up that subject again.
A full five seconds pass, then he nods.
Holy Christ. Oh, my God. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Okay, breathe. Don’t push him. Coax him. Slowly.
“I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you.”
Another nod. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. I shuffle closer, resting my palm on his chest, right over his heart. It’s beating so fast. As fast as mine, but for different reasons.
“Christian, I know we married for convenience, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. For whatever you need. I want to be the person you turn to in times of trouble, your shoulder to lean on when the weight you carry is too heavy. Your soft place to fall when the ground rushes up to meet you. I’m sure you want to be the same for me, too.”
Come on. Tell me. Spit it out. Share your secrets, your guilt. Put me out of my fucking misery.
His cheeks puff up as he blows out a steady stream of air. The oxygen in the room seems to vanish, or maybe it’s because I’m holding my breath. Electricity zips up my spine, and the hairs on my arm stand on end. I rub my palm over first one and then the other.
“You’re cold.” He pulls the covers over us.
“No, I’m fine. Truly. Go on. You were about to say.”
He slow blinks. Once, twice, a third time. A muscle flickers along his jawline.
