Page 84 of Dare to Love a Duke
His hands gripped her hips to thrust into her. She moved with him, and she lost herself in the bliss of their bodies, in the intimacy they’d made and the desire that burned so fiercely between them.
Their growls and moans filled the confines of the carriage, the air heavy with the scents of arousal. She watched the play of hunger and pleasure on his face, his eyes heavy, his jaw tight, and the sight of him lost to sensation stoked her excitement higher. With unerring skill, he angled himself exactly right so that every time she sank down, he hit the spot deep within her. He brought one of his hands down to rub her clit.
Release beckoned and she chased it, moving like a woman possessed.
“That’s it, love,” he rasped, driving harder into her.
“I—” Her words were lost as she keened with the force of her orgasm. On and on it went, cresting and receding and rising up again.
“Ah,” he rumbled, then stiffened as he climaxed. “Yes.”
An eternity later, they collapsed against each other, bodies heaving, clothed yet intimately joined.
Leaning forward, she rested her head on his shoulder, and his arms encircled her to hold her tightly. He murmured softly to her in a language she didn’t know, but she understood him just the same—she was beautiful, perfect. Her eyes closed, she drifted on the feel of him still within her and the movement of the carriage.
She had played the game of survival very carefully, taking calculated risks, finding and exploiting opportunities. Always, she knew her objectives and how to reach them. But he... he was an unknown. A wild need that she chased recklessly, unmindful of the dangers he presented. Should he want, should he desire, he could devastate her with just a handful of words.
Pushing him away would be wisest, and insisting that they adhere to safe, circumscribed roles.
But she could not be wise. Not where he was concerned.
Chapter 20
Beneath his clothing, a trickle of sweat ran down Tom’s back. The sensation hurtled him back to the time, well over a year ago, when he’d stood in a field in the middle of the night, preparing to shoot a bottle of wine in order to win a wager. He barely remembered why he’d agreed to such a ridiculous, wasteful endeavor.
Instead of standing in a foggy field at midnight, he now sat in the House of Lords, preparing to vote on a new bill supported by Brookhurst. This latest bill was in favor of building more prisons.
Greyland sat beside Tom, and his unshakable presence served to anchor Tom to his seat rather than shoot around the chamber like a screaming rocket.
From his position on the Woolsack, the Lord Speaker called out, “Members of that opinion will say, ‘Content.’”
Half the Lords—including the Duke of Brookhurst—said loudly, “Content.”
When Tom did not join their number, Brookhurst whipped his head around to stare at him in disbelief.
“To the contrary,” the Lord Speaker continued, “‘Not content.’”
Tom’s mouth was dry and his palms damp, but he added his voice to the chorus of, “Not content.”
He deliberately gazed at Brookhurst as he spoke, so there would be no confusion as to Tom’s vote. The duke glared at him with a mixture of shock and outrage.
Dimly, Tom felt Greyland giving his back one solid thump of approval. The rest of the proceedings sped by in a blur—the bill to build more prisons had been defeated—until everyone was dismissed by the Lord Speaker. Tom filed out with the rest of the lords, his head buzzing and his heart strangely light.
He’d done it. Stepped away from his father’s well-worn path, and moved into unknown, untrodden territory. God help him and his family.
In the lobby, Greyland once again slapped his back as other progressive members gathered around, including the Earl of Ashford and Viscount Marwood.
“Nicely done, Northfield,” Greyland said with an approving nod. “Good to have you amongst our numbers.”
“Never thought to see the day when the Duke of Northfield took a stand for evolution,” Ashford said.
“In time, all things are possible.” Marwood grinned, but Tom couldn’t quite make himself return the smile.
He felt his body poised in readiness, as though anticipating a blow, all the while, his pulse hammered. Yet there was a certainty in his turmoil. What he’d done was right and just, no matter the cost. And he’d face the consequences knowing he had made the right choice.
Angry footfalls echoed in the lobby as Brookhurst stalked forward. His face was ruddy and his mouth formed a hard, slashing line.
Here it comes.Tom straightened to his full height, preparing himself.
