Page 51 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
He would use her body, as often, as hard, as quickly as he could while she was here. He would get his money’s worth. If he hadn’t already arranged for a private game at the club tonight, he wouldn’t take her out. He’d simply drag her straight to bed. But friends would be waiting and he’d appear more the fool if he canceled.
After tonight, except for her afternoon visits, during the little bit of time left to them, they wouldn’t leave the mattress. He would take her as many times as physically possible. She thought the gift of the necklace made her feel like a whore? He would bloody well ensure—
“I’m sorry.”
He nearly crouched and swung around to defend himself at the soft voice. So lost in his temper, he hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t heard her join him. He didn’t look at her. Just poured more scotch and tossed it back.
“I’ve never been given such an exquisite gift before,” she continued. “I may have placed more meaning on it than I should have.”
He took a glass, filled it with scotch, and turning slightly, offered it to her. “I don’t view you as a whore.”
She took the glass. “Between us there is naught but the physical.”
“I enjoy your company, Rose. Except when we’re at odds.” He released a rough, self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, even then. You have the ability to anger me. No other woman has ever done that. It’s odd. The things I notice when I’m with you. The things I consider. You are more than bared breasts and sweet thighs.”
The lips he had intended to kiss the moment after he gave her necklace curled up. “There you are again, making me blush with such lovely prose.”
He gave her a wry grin. “I’ve never had to spout drivel to get a woman into my bed. A title, wealth, power, prestige, influence—when they are the cloak of your character you need nothing else. All you have to do is crook a finger. Although you are here for the money, I don’t think you’re impressed by the others.”
“I am very much impressed, Your Grace, but as you say, they are your cloak. I’m far more interested in what lies beneath it.”
The grin he bestowed this time was the devilish one that he had practiced to perfection in his youth. “I believe you were introduced to that last night.”
A red hue swept up her cheeks. “There’s more to you than that.”
“Not much more, I’m afraid.” Setting aside his glass, he wandered over to a window, gazed out on the perfectly manicured gardens. “How was your visit to your residence?”
She joined him at the window. “Far too short.”
He slid his gaze over to her. “Don’t even consider that we’ll renegotiate that part of our bargain. Our time together won’t be nearly long enough as is.”
“I assumed you would become quickly bored with me.”
“To be honest, so did I. How fortunate for you that we were both wrong.”
She laughed, a sound that shimmered through him clear down to his heels. She sobered. “I’ll wear the necklace, but I don’t think I can take it with me. After all I’ve done, I don’t deserve a gift.”
“It was a costly piece. You could sell it for a princely sum.”
“I think I would treasure it far too much to ever sell it.”
Her words would have appeased his disappointment if he thought she’d attach sentiment to the piece, but she was too pragmatic. She would treasure it because of its monetary value, perhaps for its beauty. Still, he said, “Then take it as a reminder of our time together.”
“I’ll need no reminders.” Rising up on her toes, she brushed her lips over his, before placing her hand behind his head and bending him forward so her mouth settled more possessively over his, her tongue urging his lips to part.
It was the first time that she’d initiated a kiss between them and it caused a tight pain in his chest that he thought might be the death of him. No woman had ever been as aggressive with him, had ever taken as though it were her right to do so. He always led, guided, determined the dance. He liked that she didn’t hold back, that she let him know what she wanted, when she wanted it.
Winding his arms around her, he pressed her flat against him, running his hands up and down her slender back. She could stoke the flames of his desire so easily. She drove him to madness with only the slightest of willingness. She was ruining him. He’d never be content with anyone else.
Although if he were honest, he wasn’t certain he ever had been. Not as he was with her.
With her everything was different: the sensations, the passion, the hunger. Ten minutes after he devoured her, he wanted to devour her all over again. Without taking his mouth from hers, not that he thought he could with the way she was clutching him, the insistence with which her lips stayed moored to his, he lifted her up and walked toward the desk. When he got to it, with an awkward sweep of an arm, striving not to drop her in the process, he sent everything on top clattering to the floor.
With a laugh, she broke their connection. “Here?”
“Here.”
Her eyes glittered as she began unknotting his neck cloth. He hiked up her skirts. She quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. Then her hands were skimming over his skin, caressing, outlining. He unfastened his trousers, before gliding one hand up her thigh until his fingers were lost in the honeyed heat that was ready for him.
