The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

Strangely touched, Pierce smiled at the exquisite vision she made, filled with a fierce sense of pride that she belonged to him.

“Snow flame?” He slid in beside her, gathering her soft, warm body in his arms.

“Pierce?” She sounded sleepy, disoriented, and more erotic than he could bear.

“I’m here.” He shrugged her out of her nightgown, smoothing his hands over the satin of her skin.

“We have to talk.”

“Later.” He covered her mouth with his. “We’ll discuss our new employee later.”

“Not Sarah,” Daphne protested, pushing at his shoulders with insistent hands. “About—”

“Later,” Pierce whispered fervently, moving against his wife until her nipples hardened against his chest.

“Pierce.” Briefly, Daphne shook her head, fighting the sensual spell he was purposely weaving about her senses.

“Feel like heaven,” he finished for her, his lips burning a path to her breasts. “Taste like heaven,” he added huskily, drawing one sensitized peak into his mouth.

Daphne relented in a rush, twining her arms about Pierce’s neck and murmuring his name in that hushed, seductive way that made his blood heat and his body harden.

“I need you, Snow flame. I need you so bloody much.” Pierce’s hands shook as he parted her legs, absorbing the tiny quivers of her inner thighs with his fingertips. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Pierce,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“Keep saying it.” He entered her with his fingers, reveling in her wetness, intensifying it with each fiery caress.

“I love you.” She arched against his palm, her hips rising and falling in silent invitation.

“Now say it as I go into you.” He moved up and over her, his expression as harsh as his command. “Please, Snow flame, I need to know.”

Daphne pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. Slowly, she slid her hand down the length of his body until it closed around his rigid shaft. “I love you, Pierce,” she breathed reverently, lifting her flushed face to meet his gaze, staring deep into his eyes as she guided him into her. “Forever and always, I love you.”

He climaxed instantly. Her words, the look on her face, the hot, tight feel of her were more than he could bear. Helplessly, he poured himself into her, shuddering with each pulsing surge of his release.

Something inside him refused to touch heaven alone, desperately wanted Daphne with him. Slipping his hand between their bodies, he found her, stroked the velvety flesh that cried out for his touch, responded instantly to it.

Daphne unraveled at once, sobbing Pierce’s name as she dissolved into hard, gripping spasms, clutching him inside and out as if to never let him go.

Pierce never intended to go. “I love you,” he rasped, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs. “Christ, how I love you.”

He closed his eyes, the reality of his feelings for Daphne prompting talons of doubt to claw at his gut.

Should he tell her the truth?

There had always been honesty between them. Did he owe if to her to tell her the truth? Or was it his responsibility to protect her from it?

And most of all, did he owe it to her—to them—to abandon the bandit’s cause, children or not?

His hands balled into fists, digging deep into the pillow. For a man who always knew just what to do, he was totally at sea. What the hell was his answer?

Daphne’s even breathing told Pierce she’d fallen asleep. He leaned up on his elbows, brushing strands of hair from her face and kissing her lightly before he eased himself from her breathtaking warmth.

He jerked on his robe, prowling the room like a caged tiger seeking escape, knowing all the while this was one impasse that was truly insurmountable.

Crossing over to his nightstand, Pierce slid open the drawer, automatically reaching for the emerald he’d placed there earlier, as if by holding the gem he could find the answers he sought.

It was gone.