What a Duke Dares (Sons of Sin 3)

How odd that he too felt the faint distance, minute but unmistakable. The fear of revealing her love always hovered, even when she was lost to pleasure.

“I’m deep inside you, deep enough to touch your heart, and I feel—” He broke off. She could imagine why. He didn’t deal in emotions, especially his own. “I feel like you elude me.”

“I’m right here.” Except they both knew she wasn’t.

“In body.”

“That’s enough.” She shifted to ease the fullness. Her shoulder dislodged a book and sent it tumbling to the carpet with a dull thud.

“It’s not.” He sounded confused. And frustrated.

“Cam, you have me.”

“Not completely,” he said stubbornly and jerked his hips to confirm his claim.

Another cracked laugh. “Cam, you’ve got me against the blasted wall, for heaven’s sake. Anyone who heard you would think you mad.”

Except, most tragically, Penelope Rothermere.

It suddenly struck her that they both wanted the same thing. Access to the other’s soul. Without risking their own vulnerabilities.

“I know what I mean,” he persisted, shifting. Almost unwillingly, her exhausted body adjusted.

She crushed her face into his shirtfront, breathing his rich scent. His lips brushed the crown of her head. After such passion, the unexpected tenderness stabbed like a knife. Before she reminded herself that longing mustn’t infect this moment, she released a soft, unhappy sigh.

The hands under her bottom hardened to bruising. She tightened her legs around his hips, feeling the slide of his trousers against her bare skin. The sensation was wildly erotic. Everything about this encounter was wildly erotic.

“Hold on, Penelope,” he whispered.

He slid from her body, then slammed back. The thrust crashed her into the wall. Three more books toppled. That stretching sensation returned. And to her astonishment, a flicker of arousal.

Cam’s slow withdrawal fired every nerve. He took her again. And again. One final rise and he went taut and still. With a rough groan, he pumped into her.

It turned out that she had more than a flicker left. Caught in the conflagration, all Pen could do was hold him and pray that she’d survive the ride. She felt pummeled by pleasure, stripped to essentials, re-created as Cam’s creature.

She’d had no idea that the physical world encompassed such wonders. Or that the physical body could endure such extremes of delight. If she thought she’d yielded before, this sizzling connection proved that Cam could draw more from her. More reaction. More pleasure. More wildness.

More love.

He staggered and lost hold of her hips. Her feet slipped down and their bodies separated. She grabbed his shoulders. She had no hope of standing on her own.

“I hope Thomas went to bed,” she said shakily, staring at Cam and seeing what she expected. A man flushed with satisfaction, his gaze lazy, his clothing in disarray.

A man who still concealed his true self behind his eyes.

She still hardly believed what he’d said. They fought the same battle. After tonight, she recognized how cruel that struggle would become. Why was he so set on gaining her surrender? Was it about power? Pride?

Cam laughed softly. “I love to hear you cry out.”

“I love to hear you grunt,” she retorted.

“Come upstairs and I‘ll grunt some more.”

As she straightened, her skirts slithered to her ankles. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Cam held her loosely by the waist. “Catch your breath.”

Despite the declaration of war—for what else had that been?—they stood leaning into one another for a sweet interval. Gradually Pen’s breathing settled, her awareness of something other than physical sensation returned.