Page 72 of The Duchess in His Bed
When he tugged, she didn’t resist, but followed him into the hallway, a small nervous giggle escaping. She covered her mouth. Never before had she wandered about nude outside of her own chambers. It was at once decadent and titillating, wicked. Breaking free of his hold, she dashed toward the corner room that the servants had prepared for him. She heard the echo of his quickening steps as he rushed after her. Darting into his chamber, she came to an abrupt halt and swung around to face him.
With purpose mirrored in his gaze, he slammed the door shut. Quickly he dragged his shirt over his head before divesting himself of his boots and the remainder of his clothing in smooth, practiced moves that had Selena’s mouth going dry. She’d seen him in the buff before. Still it was a pleasure to see him so again. And she thought if she lived to be a hundred, she’d never tire of the sight, even as a spark of reality reminded her that tonight would no doubt be the last time ever. Tomorrow they would return to London only to part ways: he to his scandalous gaming hells and she to search for another accomplice in her quest to deceive the Crown.
Presently, though, she didn’t want to consider options or speculate as to whom she might approach. She wanted only to be focused on her remaining hours with this man who caused her to experience emotions that were new to her, who brought forth her passions with the ease one pulled a book off a shelf, who had shown her she was a creature of wants, needs, and desires when it came to the flesh.
Although perhaps it was not as general as all that. Perhaps it was more specific. All her needs were related to him, for certainly she’d never looked upon another man and thought,I shall die if I do not have him.
It washistouch she craved,hisbody melding with hers,hishands stroking,hismouth devouring.
She held her ground as he prowled toward her, his movements sensual and predatory, just as they’d been that first night when she’d seen him at the club. When he reached her, she lifted her arms to welcome him. With an undulation of her fingers moving across his scalp, she tangled them in the strands of his hair as she flattened her breasts against his broad chest and welcomed his mouth returning to hers with an urgency that spoke volumes regarding his own desires. She was the object of them, the focus.
They weren’t engaged in a simple mating between two individuals, but a mating between Aiden Trewlove and Selena Sheffield. The individuals mattered. It was his eyes of dark brown into which she wanted to gaze. His coarsened palms she relished skimming over her skin. His groans that were music to her ears. His roughened voice growling her name over and over like a benediction that caused her heart to pump more madly, joy to spiral out from her core until it encompassed the entirety of the world.
Even if that world at present was small, only them, ensconced in a bedchamber in which she’d never before slept.
Oh, how wise he was to insist they come to a room that held no memories. None of their stolen moments here would be intruded upon. Through the years as she took them out to savor them, they would mix with no other remembrances, would forever remain their own, pristine and untouched by anything that had come before.
She was barely aware of his backing her up until her knees hit the mattress. Lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all, he tossed her onto the velveteen duvet and followed her down, covering her body with his as he once again plundered her mouth.
His flavor was rich and dark, oaky. Scotch had recently passed his lips, and she wondered if the remnants on his tongue were responsible for the drunkenness she was experiencing or if it was merely his nearness that made her dizzy and breathless. He was the finest of liquors, and she feared she’d never have enough of him. That she would always long for another taste, another sip, another joining.
He trailed his wicked mouth over every inch of her as though he were memorizing the words in a book so if the tome were no longer available to be held in his hands, he could still find pleasure in recalling every sentence that made up the story. A lick here, a nip there, a stroke of his velvety tongue where her skin was its silkiest.
Everything within her tightened, everything reached for him, for this man who could stir her to life so easily. She felt no embarrassment as her moans and gasps echoed around them. Instead she reveled in the sounds, in how he managed to make her feel comfortable enough to release them. Within his arms, she felt as though she could reveal her true self: wanton and lustful.
After spreading her legs wide, he placed his hands beneath her bottom, tilted her slightly, and plunged deep and sure. Her cry of pleasure erupted unheeded. It was so marvelous to have him within her once again. Only one night had passed without their bodies joined and yet it had seemed an eternity.
Resting on his elbows, he threaded his fingers through hers, held her hands in place on either side of her head on the pillow. A pang of regret lanced her because she understood the reasons behind his actions. He feared she would dig her fingers into his buttocks and hold him in place when he was desperate to leave her and spill his seed elsewhere.
“I won’t take what you don’t wish to give,” she whispered.
His eyes were dark, penetrating. Lowering his head, he kissed her thoroughly before rising up over her, holding her gaze, and sliding out of her, only to glide back in. Over and over, slowly, languidly. His fingers clutching hers.
He increased the tempo. She watched his hair flap against his brow, dew begin coating his chest, his nostrils flaring as his breathing became harsher. Her body responded in kind, meeting his thrusts, gyrating as she took him deep, so deep she felt as though he had pierced her soul. Sensations began to build, rolling up from her toes. She squeezed her thighs against his hips, striving to contain the pleasure, not yet ready for it to have its way with her, for him to leave her.
They moved in tandem, giving and taking, eliciting gratification from the other. As though he knew precisely what she needed, his movements became more frenzied, harder, more purposeful, until ecstasy took hold and burst through her. She cried out his name, bowed her back, pressed her head more deeply into the pillow. As much as she fought against it, she couldn’t stop herself from closing her eyes as sublime bliss overtook her. It felt as though her nerve endings had become stars shooting through the heavens.
He continued to pump into her until she was well and truly spent. Opening her eyes, she met and held his gaze. His jaw was clenched, his muscles taut and rigid. Her name was a growl on his lips as he bucked against her, his body a series of spasms, his head thrown back.
His fingers loosened their hold on hers and he closed his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck.
Tears stung her eyes as she realized he hadn’t left her, hadn’t spilled his seed elsewhere. She wrapped herself around him as much as she was able and held on tight.
As he watched her fall into the abyss of physical release, he realized he could deny her nothing she wanted. And so when he should have left, he stayed, doing what he’d never before done: poured his seed into a womb.
He had expected to feel a measure of regret, but it was not to be found. Nothing, it seemed, mattered more than she did, more than her happiness. He’d been playing at a game, striving to justify not giving her the only thing she asked of him. Just like the billiards game they’d played, the odds were stacked against him winning. Not because she was coy or clever or knew how to manipulate him.
But because she hadn’t pushed. She’d given him time. She’d accepted his qualms and allowed him to come to his own conclusions. In the end, they weren’t what he’d expected.
He who had never loved before loved at last, and it was the most rewarding, the most terrifying thing he’d ever known.
He’d almost voiced the wordsI love youout loud, but had known that doing so would only make things more difficult when the time for parting came. Because they would have to part. Eventually she would realize that.
Or perhaps he hadn’t voiced the words because he feared discovering her feelings for him weren’t equal to his for her. Not that it mattered. Which was a recent and surprising discovery.
Years ago, when Finn had fallen in love with the daughter of an earl, Aiden had called him a fool. Only now did he truly understand that his brother had been given no choice in the matter. The heart did as it wanted, loved who it would love. And seemed to have a penchant for choosing those who provided the most difficult of challenges. But then if love were easy, poets would hardly be heralded for putting into words what most found indescribable.
He pressed a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, where a love bite was fading. He’d sought to brand her that night. What a fool he’d been not to realize how she had the power to permanently brand him. His heart was hers. Would remain so. He’d never give it to another. That he knew with certainty.
