Page 44 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
Rose was certain his wife would do so, because already she herself was feeling the spark of caring for him as he came to rest between her thighs. He nuzzled her neck. It seemed so wicked in the darkness. But then everything about him was designed for wickedness. This time, she wouldn’t allow him to deny her everything, to deny her anything.
Working her hand between them, she felt the steel covered in velvet. She sighed as he groaned. Raising her hips, barely noticing the discomfort, she welcomed him sliding into the depths, stretching her, making her so aware of the fullness of him as he settled in. She pressed her soles to his calves as he slowly eased out, eased back in. Raised on his elbows, his hands cradling her head, he kept most of his weight off her as he continued to plunder her mouth.
Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she wondered if she would ever tire of his attentions. Each time was different, each time brought another aspect of him to her notice. The languidness of their motions made her wonder if perhaps they were both hovering on the twilight edge of sleep, where dreams beckoned.
She feared she might awaken to discover that he was a dream, that all of this was but fantasy.
Except the lovely sensations coursing through her assured her that everything was very much real. He tore his mouth from hers, his breath harsh in the quiet surrounding them. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, scraped her nails along his back. His guttural groan shimmered through her.
The pleasure built and built—
She cried out as the cataclysm rocked through her. With a feral growl, he threw his head back as he slammed into her, his back arching, his body going still. She could feel the tremors cascading through him. Without separating himself from her, he rolled to his side, bringing her in close, her leg draped over his hip.
Their breathing calmed, but she thought her heart might never cease its pounding.
“You shall be the death of me,” he said.
“But what a lovely way to go.”
“Much better than being a tiger’s dinner, I suppose.”
She nipped at his skin with her teeth. He merely released a tired laugh, drew her in more tightly against him, and held her as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 10
When next Rose awoke, she found Avendale still with her, his hand splayed over her hip as though to keep her there beneath the sheets with him until he was ready to let her go. They’d fallen asleep without closing the draperies so sunlight spilled in through the many windows of a room that was nearly as large as the entire floor that housed bedchambers in her residence. He was facing her, his long dark lashes resting gently on sharply defined cheeks.
Striving not to disturb him, as unobtrusively as possible, she pressed the flat of her hand to the center of his chest, smiled as the hairs there curled around her fingers similar to the way he’d been curled around her for most of the night. She’d not expected him to stay with her, but then there was a good deal about him that she had not expected. A good deal about herself as well.
The gladness that swelled within her because he was still here. The joy frightened her because she knew at the end of her time with him, he would bundle her into the coach without remorse, without any thought of missing her. Yet she already knew that she would miss him dreadfully, that she would have numerous regrets, that there would be an agonizing ache in her chest.
He opened his eyes. The brown depths seemed warmer than she’d ever seen them. A corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “Hello.”
His voice, rough with sleep, shimmered through her. She swallowed. “Hello.”
He moved his hand over her bottom before gliding it up her back. “Are you hungry?”
If she were a light-skirt, he would probably expect her to say,Hungry for you. She almost said the words anyway, because she was, but they sounded so silly, so unlike her. “A bit, yes.”
“Then we’ll have breakfast in bed, shall we?”
She nodded. “That sounds lovely.”
Pressing the flat of his palm to her spine, he brought them closer together until their bodies were nestled together, but they could still look into each other’s eyes. “Are you still sore this morning?”
“A little,” she reluctantly admitted.
“Mmm,” he murmured as he leaned in and nuzzled her neck.
She sighed. “Not so very much.”
The barest of laughs escaped, his breath fanned over her neck. “After breakfast then.”
“Why not before?”
His laughter was deeper this time as he leaned back. “Because I want you to recover a bit more so you’ll enjoy it to your fullest. I’m not a complete bastard.”
“I enjoyed it very much last night.”
