Page 27 of His Grace, the Duke
“Burke,” she hissed, trying to cover her nakedness.
He was wide awake in an instant, rolling over as the door opened.
“Only me,” said Renley, slipping into the room.
“Christ, Tom.” Burke flopped back on the bed, breathing hard.
Rosalie blushed furiously, pulling the coverlet up over herbreasts. What was it with these men and not knocking on doors?
Renley glanced around the room. He was dressed similar to Burke—black pants and a loose white shirt. The deep “V” of his shirt revealed the swirls of ink on his chest. “So... James really must be contrite,” he mused.
“It would appear so,” Burke muttered. His arm curled around her waist as he tucked into her, not caring that Renley was there.
He may have no questions, but Rosalie did. “Renley, what are you doing?”
“If you’re going to make this work, might I offer two words of caution?” he replied, still leaning against the door. “First, always make sure you’re alone. If you’re not, do try and keep it down. I’ve been lying across the hall listening to the symphony of your shared moans.”
“Oh no,” Rosalie whined with mortification, rolling her face into the pillows. He was right—she’d completely lost hold of her senses. Nothing mattered in the moment but Burke—pleasing him, watching him come apart.
“Second, never forget to lock the door.” To prove his point, Renley turned the latch, locking all three of them in the room together. He swept through into Burke’s adjoining room and Rosalie could only imagine he was doing the same to that door.
He came back with a pillow tucked under his arm, taking no notice of the very naked Burke stretched at Rosalie’s side. He paused only to blow out the candles flickering on the bedside table. Circling around the end of the bed, he came to Rosalie’s other side and did the same thing to those candles. The only light left in the room came from the dying fire.
Renley tossed the pillow down next to Rosalie and tugged off his shirt. She fought to contain her runaway heart as shetook in his beautifully sculpted chest, those broad shoulders and strong arms. The firelight flickered, making the tattoos on his chest dance as he flexed and moved.
He shed his pants next, dropping them to the floor. Burke’s legs were long and lean, adding to his height. In contrast, Renley’s thighs were thick muscle, dusted with soft golden hair. She tried not to focus on his half-hard cock at eye level. She thrilled at the thought of that impressive length filling her. Swallowing her nerves, she scooted back against the curve of Burke’s hip.
Renley flipped back the coverlet and sank down onto the mattress, sliding his legs in before flopping his head down on his pilfered pillow. Burke tucked his face into the nape of Rosalie’s neck until she could feel his warm breath fanning gently between her bare shoulders.
Renley’s presence filled the bed. He was inches from her, completely naked, and making no attempts to touch her. He seemed content to just... fall asleep.
“Renley . . .”
“Is this alright?” he whispered. “I’m so tired. And I know you want more time,” he added. “I won’t ask you for anything. I just... need to be where you are.”
Her heart split open at the words. With a slow exhale, she let her doubts melt away. If he wanted Marianne, he would be with Marianne now. Renley wantedher. So much so that he couldn’t stay away, even after hearing her with his friend.
She reached for him in the dark, running her hand through his soft curls, as she melted against his lips, drinking in that taste of bottled sunshine. Burke’s arm stayed looped around her waist as Renley inched closer, his hardness brushing against her thigh as their mouths opened to each other.
His kisses made her drunk. She could live off the kisses of these men forever. Who needed air or food? Trivial compared to the ambrosia of Renley’s taste on her tongue. She sighed as she felt his calloused hand cup her breast. His fingers tweaked her nipple, sending a jolt of want shivering over her skin. But then he dropped his hand away, breaking their kiss too.
“Good night, Rose,” he murmured, sliding back an inch to give her space.
In moments, she felt the breathing of both men even out. This time last night, she was running from them, certain neither would ever choose her. They wouldn’t possibly put her first. Now they were naked in her bed, folded in her arms.
I need to be where you are.
She repeated the words like a prayer.
I need to be where you are.
***
As content as she felt knowing Burke and Renley were here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
Not something . . .someone. James.
She sighed, heart heavy. James Corbin, the man who couldn’t let himself be loved. The man who perhaps needed love the most. Was he still awake somewhere in the depths of the house? Undoubtedly. Was he all alone in his study, pouring over accounts, making lists, thinking of her too...
