When to Dare a Dishonorable Duke (Romancing the Rake 7)
“Does it work for men the way it did for me last night?” She licked her lips again. “Can I kiss you like you did me?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.” Then he opened them again. “But not tonight. I’ll never last. I want you too much.”
She gave a nod. “But you’ll teach me.”
“Yes.” He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he gently pushed her back on the bed.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her legs automatically opened for him sliding around his hips as the tip of his manhood pressed into her opening.
Heat, pleasure, and the slightest bit of fear mingled through her as she slid her arms about his neck. But as he moved slowly inside her, that fear was replaced with sheer pleasure. And by the time he was fully seated inside her, she knew she belonged in this man’s arms.
* * *
Damian gathered her close, kissing along her neck as he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. Her body wrapped about his as they pressed chest to chest, belly to belly.
She felt like silk and heat and…home.
He belonged here. With her.
He closed his eyes attempting to enjoy the physical pleasure she brought while ignoring the emotion. This was a match of convenience for her and need for him. Feelings were not welcome. But as he moved inside her, quickening the pace and her body moved with his, her breath gasping in his ear, he couldn’t seem to help it.
Emotion was rising like the tide inside him.
And when she moaned out her pleasure, he tightened in response, picking up the pace. On and on they climbed, moving together like one until finally, her pleasure broke. Cassandra cried out as her body clamped around him, pulling his own finish from deep inside.
Never in all his life had he had such a perfect union.
He held her close still, wishing to savor the moment for as long as possible as he kissed her chest, her neck, her face.
She was right. It was going to be a pleasure to be married and to share a bed with this woman every night.
He slid to the side, pulling her body to his. She snuggled down into his chest as he reached out a hand and released the ties of several of the bed curtains, cloaking them in darkness. Dinner was sure to arrive soon, and he didn’t want to be seen or disturbed.
T
hey passed the night in a cocoon of warmth, making love again in the wee hours of the morning before Cassandra fell back to sleep.
Then he slipped out of the bed and dressed, picking his clothes from the piles scattered along the floor.
He needed to move and think.
He was both satiated and restless.
He should have known bedding her would create a bond. But he wasn’t prepared for the feelings that were filling him. What if she hurt him? Not physically, of course.
He made his way down the hall and into the breakfast room.
With Amelia, the worst wounds had been the emotional ones. The betrayal. The heartache. He hadn’t planned to open himself up to those again. And here he was, already filled with a tenderness that made him vulnerable. It was less than ideal.
“Your Grace,” a deep voice rumbled from next to a platter of poached eggs.
Damian’s head snapped up to see that Balstead had arrived at home. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Balstead’s house. “Good morning.”
Balstead gave him a long look. “You look…disheveled.”