Page 53 of Duke of Treason (Rogues from War 3)

She must break the kiss in need of air, her head falling back with a sound that sent him to the blazes of hell. He took the opportunity to savour that mound fully.

“Annabel,” He rumbled. “I cannot hold it any longer.” He returned to teasing her breast. She was the only one who drove him to extremes of maddened desire in a matter of milliseconds.

“What are you waiting for?” She moaned, fingers entangled in his hair.

His stare on her, he undid his breeches in rushed movements. And dived in her through the slit in her drawers, taking both to a delirium of want, pleasure and starvation.

He was past any clear thought. His world consisted of this woman and what she did to him, seeping under his skin, deranging his soul, transforming him in an unrecognisable mess. He did not care. She was his. Only his. And he…he could be no one else’s. Not since she crashed into his life, past and present.

Pounding hard and fast, he extracted desperate sounds from both of them. His finger found her engorged button under her skirts, his mouth her neck, but he got lost. Lost in a blur of blinding scald, as he sought the ultimate heaven.

Not going to make it, the notion sprouted in the middle of his haze. He laboured through, nevertheless, only to hear her scream unconstrained, as her body clasped him mercilessly. And then he had no chance. He exploded with a wild grunt, as he moved so deep he did not know where any of them began or ended.

He carried her to his bed, they fell in a tangle of limbs, clothes half undone and repletion.

Shameless broad daylight seeped through the drapes on their semi clothed bodies.

They clung to each other as their breaths became minimally normalised. Her hair in complete disarray, she lay on her back while he lay on his side by her, grazing the rim of her ear distractedly. Replenished and lax, she revelled in his tenderness.

How on earth he inflamed her with such meteoric speed she would not find out. One moment, they were in a heated discussion, on the other they tangled like they would never let go.

“You do not like Castle Blackthorne.” One of his arms over his head, he toyed with her midnight ringlets.

Her head flew to him, his greener gaze funnelled on her. She did not believe she had ever given him this impression. “Where did you hear such a nonsense?” Caresses on his hand at her waist, she did not avoid the truth. “I fear I like it overly much. Especially the library.”

Something unfurled in him, because his breath came easier and his expression became less brooding. “Good, because we are travelling there tomorrow.”

A swift mov

ement to sit up, his arm on her waist prevented her and he moved one leg in between hers to pin her there.

The despot!

“Shh.” He said, his mouth on the side of hers. “You are under my command now.” His shaved face grazed hers, his hand stroking her neck.

It weakened her, making her lay back. “As if there was anyone above your outrageous commands!” She said, insouciant.

Between nibbles on her ear, he chuckled, the sound vibrating insidiously in her ear, transforming her in a pliable pudding. “You, the insubordinate hellion.”

The bemusement he would say this even in jest lasted almost nothing, as he started distracting her to a point where thoughts had no place.

* * *

Two days later, they sat in their inn’s rooms having breakfast before starting the last leg of the journey. She had a hard time organising her trip and closing her house, since she did not know when she would come back.

A tea cup in her hand, she tried with strain not to stare at Romulus across from her, with a paper. The memory of this trip branded in her head with conversations during the day and extreme passion in the night. They talked about their childhood, their friends, family, routines, points of view on just about any subject. Everything under the sun though the weather continued fresh.

As she disclosed him, she did not have the luxury of escaping the crag-like feelings that rooted in her. Too profound to fathom. Too complex to name. Too compelling to resist.

Without even noticing her head went up to find him staring. Lightning coursed through her body and heart. This man had to be the most dangerous for her.

Dressed in dark breeches, shirt, neckcloth and coat, he was the most magnificent man in humanity.

His expression dead serious. Not that he smiled much, but when he did, she melted on the spot. “I put up the bans.”

Vexation, eagerness and a feeling too kin to enthusiasm funnelled in her. “First, you have not asked me to marry you.” She put her cup down with a crack.

“Before I left London.” He continued as if she had not spoken.

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