Page 90 of The Good Duke
And since he was being honest with himself in this moment, he could also acknowledge that from the moment she’d come crashing back into his life, all grown up, voluptuous, and clever-witted as she’d always been, he’d wanted her under him. Over him. He’d wanted to take her anyway and every way, and then invent some new ones.
For, the thing of it was, when he’d taken her in his arms, not just any eager and willing body would have satisfied his hungering. In that moment, and this one, and every goddamned one since she’d arrived, he ached to bury himself inher. And only her.
On the other hand, for Persephone, any man would have sufficed as she’d so equably informed him.
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Funny, he’d believed himself sufficiently jaded as to feel nothing anymore, only to be proven wrong by the sting of hurt at Persephone using him to slake her lust—lust which she’d matter-of-factly stated had nothing to do with Simon specifically, but rather was an itch that any man could have scratched.
In the heat of the moment and the heart of the act, he’d been all too glad at the fact she’d returned to him, no shy-eyed, innocent virgin—not that she’d ever been shy-eyed.
But when he’d known her, she’d absolutely been virtuous.
Now, his craving for Persephone momentarily—and only somewhat—sated, he considered a shockingly unpalatable question: Who’d been the man to provide her with such exquisite skills in carnal matters?
And given her glorious boldness, talents, and longing for the scandalous words he’d spoken, there could be no doubting she’d had lovers.
That should relieve him. He’d not sullied his former childhood friend. As such, he should sleep easier and be grateful to the man who’d introduced her to the art of lovemaking.
Rage boiled in his gut. A low rumbling started in his belly and reverberated in his chest.
In the greatest moment of hypocrisy in all of Simon’s life, he found himself consumed with a primordial rage. His hands curled reflexively into the arms of his chair as he battled a different hungering—to hunt down the one who’d so masterfully tutored her.
Restless, Simon exploded to his feet and began to pace. Retrieving his cravat and tailcoat, he quickly made himself presentable.
What in hell is happening to me?
He’d left London and shaped himself into a man who could be respected—one not so riddled with self-loathing and afeared of the world’s view of him that he couldn’t properly string a sentence together. He prided himself on his self-control, and he loved to live for his own pleasures.
Now, with Persephone back in his life, he found himself knocked off-kilter at every turn, wanting her so much that she clouded his thoughts about what he really wanted—to leave London, this time for good.
His gaze collided with the globe at the corner of his desk, and Simon stopped in his tracks. He flexed his jaw.
He’d installed that piece in this place where he oversaw his affairs and obligations to the people dependent upon him, so he never lost sight of his responsibilities, but also, of parallel importance, his desires to do that which made him happy—travel and be inspired in his writing.
This impending meeting with the first candidate for duchess got him one step closer to having his affairs settled and putting London behind him.
Simon gave his lapels a tug. Yes, this was precisely what he needed. Nay,wanted!
Knock-knock-knock.
Even expecting Persephone’s return as he’d been and having convinced himself he was all too eager to get on with it, his gut clenched. He should be relieved, and yet…when he married, Persephone would be gone and…
Simon rocked back on his heels.
What in hell was he thinking? He should be only relieved at the prospect of being rid of Persephone once and for all, of sending her on to some other employment, in some other household, with another employer who was anyone but him.
Another rap at the door came, this time harder and more insistent.
Knock-knock-knock.
The knots continued twisting like a vicious vise about his stomach, and he stared dumbly at the front of the room.
Yes, he should be relieved, except he’d come to find since she’d arrived, he’d actually enjoyed sparring with her. That was the only reason, the sole reason, her pronouncement left him feeling this…peculiar shade of regret.
Then the tapping stopped.
His heart ceased knocking about his ribcage.
