Page 69 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“I hardly know. And I want to trust him—he has been a good friend to us. Charming, helpful,andhe is your brother. But I cannot dismiss the way he looked at me when I asked what he was doing. As though he were afraid. Why would he be afraid if his reasons were honest? And why would that be his honest reason?” She stepped forward into Adam’s embrace. “I suppose I’m just tired.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I doubt it’s anything important, love.”
“Are you certain?” Emmeline leaned back so she could see his face. “I know you mistrusted Rickard when he first came here.”
“Nothing to worry about.” He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose, and she smiled despite herself. “I have something more important to occupy our minds.”
“Oh?”
He tugged her closer, and she obeyed, crawling onto his lap and feeling the weight of his arms on her back. His mouth was hot on hers, demanding, immediately bringing a kick of desire into the base of her belly, and she responded in kind, opening her mouth to his probing tongue.
This was what she needed to forget. There was nothing like losing herself in the feel of him, his hands on her back, his mouth on hers, and the urgent, persistent ridge of his desire pressing against her core.
“Are you still tired?” he murmured against her mouth.
She laughed. “Not any longer.”
“Good.” He flipped her so she was lying on her front, and began painstakingly unfastening her dress.
His knuckles brushed against her spine, and though she was still wearing her chemise and stays, she felt the heat of his touch seep into her.
She could never imagine being tired of this or wanting less of it.
He was everything.
Slowly, he removed her layers, and she let him, pliant at every turn. Then his fingers were between her legs, and he gasped.
“Already wet for me?” His voice was rough, and he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “You’ll take me like this today.”
“Yes.”
Now that he’d said it, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to sink inside her, pinning her to the bed, face down. Her body thrummed in pleasure at the thought.
Perhaps not all young ladies would like this treatment. But there was no denying that she certainly did.
“Are you ready, my love?”
“Yes,” she said again, angling her hips up to offer him better access.
He let out a growl of approval, taking her offering and pushing inside. The feeling of being stretch gave way to delicious fullness, and they groaned in unison.
This was what love was, she thought dazedly as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. The weight of his body, the heat—he must have already removed his clothes—made her dizzy with want, and pleasure bloomed in every place they touched.
“You are mine,” he said as he rocked into her. “Mine.”
“Yours.” Her hands fisted the sheets.
“And you will always be mine. I will always want you.”
Always,” she babbled, lost in the wash of sensation, and that building, tightening feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I love you, Adam.”
He growled in approval and pulled her closer, until there was no space between them, and they were one in every way that mattered.
All thoughts of Rickard, of Nicholas, of anything or anyone evaporated as he nipped the soft skin of her throat and said, “I love you too, wife of mine.”
Her release came in long, languid waves as he thrust relentlessly into her until he, too, was overcome.
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