Page 81 of His Grace, the Duke
“Nothing.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting it burn the back of his throat.
“You’re lying.” She sat forward, one hand on Burke’s thigh. “You’ve been in an ill humor all afternoon.”
He rubbed his thumb over the decorative nubs on the edge of his glass. “You called me your friend.”
She blinked. “What?”
“With Hart... in the garden. You called me your friend.”
“And so you are,” she replied, her cheeks going pink. “Are we not friends?”
“It’s the way you said it,” he muttered. “So casually, it was almost dismissive. ‘Oh, that’s just Renley... what a good friend.’”
She huffed. “I can hardly call you my beau, my lover, my paramour.”
“No... you can’t.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his tone.
Rosalie’s gaze softened. “But youwantme to call you those things, don’t you?” She looked close to tears now. “Tom, you know I can’t. I won’t risk your reputation. And clearly, with people like Olivia about, we must be even more careful—”
He set aside his glass. “I know you can’t tell anyone what we are to each other. It’s just... the only thing I hate worse than a secret is a lie.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Tom, but wearefriends—”
“Enough,” he growled, rising to his feet. He held out his hand. “Rose, come here.”
“What?”
“Just come here, you stubborn creature.”
She crossed the space with a huff. “Well, sir? You have me standing. Now what?”
Tom couldn’t hold back for another second. Not when every moment in her presence felt like one excruciatingly long exercise in self-restraint. He cupped her cheek with his hand, the other wrapping around her waist, and pulled her in close, losing himself in the divine taste of her mouth.
At the first movement of her lips, his body erupted in fire, blood racing to his cock. It hardened against her. He knew she felt it too, because she tipped her hip forward with a little moan, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.
Burke was right—she was a goddess. He couldn’t getenough. She was so warm and smooth. He wanted to taste and touch every inch of her. He dug his fingers into her hair as he tipped her head back, letting his tongue dance with hers. She made the sweetest little whimpering sounds as she clung to his open waistcoat.
He traced the gentle curve of her shoulder, sliding inside the open “V” of her dressing gown. She gasped as he cupped her breasts over the chemise. They were so perfect—round and full, with rosy pink nipples as sweet as her name. He slipped one hand inside, needing to feel her hot skin against his palm.
She arched into him, her own hands working diligently to shed him of his waistcoat. He kissed her neck, caressing her breast as she panted, tugging at his braces next. They slipped down over his shoulders, and she helped him get his arms free.
“I want you. Please, Tom—”
He broke their kiss, pushing her a step away. Her eyes were dark with desire. “Christ, Rose, is that how a friend makes you feel?”
She inched closer, reaching for him with both hands. “Tom—”
“Answer me,” he growled. “Do all your friends make you feel as I do? Do they set you on fire with a touch? Burn you from the inside out?”
“No,” she whispered, dropping her hand so it grazed against his hard cock.
He sucked in a breath. His whole body was on fire. He needed release. Needed to channel this frustration, these hurt feelings of rejection. He brought his face closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Get on your knees.”
She gasped. “What?”
He cupped her face with both hands, tipping it up so he could see her eyes. “I said get on your knees.”
Behind her, Burke shifted on the sofa. Tom prayed he didn’t attempt to move. This was between him and Rosalie.
