When Seducing A Duke(111)

By: Kathryn Smith

She was gone before Grey could even hug her back, which was probably just as well given the burning in his eyes.

“We’ll be all over the scandal rags tomorrow,” Archer crowed with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“No doubt,” Grey agreed. “I’m afraid I have provided enough entertainment for one evening. Dinner tomorrow?”

His family accepted the invitation with quiet aplomb and a great deal of unspoken pride, but it was obvious all the same. Then they left him and Rose to finally make their escape. He had just gotten situated in the carriage and told the driver to go on when she plopped herself down in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Why did you come here tonight?” she asked. “Other than the fact that you’ve finally come to your senses and realize you love me.”

Chuckling, Grey reached up and untied the ribbons that held her mask. The pretty silk fell away to reveal the beautiful face beneath. “I missed you,” he replied honestly. “And you were right—about everything. I’m tired of drifting through life. I want to live again—with you.”

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I think that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He grinned. “I have more.”

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’m tired of talking.” She kissed him, teasing his lips with the ripe curves of hers, sliding her tongue inside to rub against his in a sensual rhythm that had him fisting his hands in her skirts.

By the time they reached Mayfair, Grey’s hair was mussed, Rose’s skirts crushed, and he was harder than an oratory competition for mutes.

“I can’t believe you came,” she told him as they entered the house, arms wrapped around each other. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t have done it without you.”

She shook her head. “You did it for yourself not for me.”

Perhaps that was true, and perhaps it wasn’t. He had no interest in discussing it tonight. “It’s just the beginning,” he promised. “I’m going to go wherever you want to go from now on. Within reason.”

She laughed. “Of course. We can’t have you attending a musicale just to please me, can we?” She gazed up at him. “You know, I think I’m going to want to spend plenty of evenings at home as well. That time I spent out of society had some very soothing moments.”

“Of course,” he agreed, thinking about all the things they could do to one another at home. Alone. “There has to be moderation.”

Upstairs in their bedroom, he undressed her, unbuttoning each tiny button one by one until she sighed in exasperation. “In a hurry?” he teased.

His wife got her revenge, when clad only in her chemise and stockings, she turned those nimble fingers of hers to his cravat, working the knot so slowly he thought he might go mad. She worsened the torment by slowly rubbing her hips against his thigh. His cock was so rigid he could hang clothes on it, and the need to bury himself inside her consumed him.

Still, a skilled lover knows when to have patience—and a man in love knows that his woman’s pleasure comes far, far before his own. So, as ready as he was, Grey was in no hurry to let this night end, not when it might prove to be the best of his new-found life.

Wearing only his trousers, he took Rose’s hand and led her to their bed. He climbed onto the mattress and pulled her down beside him, lying so that they were face-to-face.

Warm fingers came up to gently touch the scar that ran down his face. Odd, but he hadn’t thought of it at all that evening. In fact, he’d almost forgot about it.

“I heard you that night,” he admitted. “When you told me you loved me.”

Her head tilted. “I thought you were asleep.”

“No.” He held her gaze as he raised his own hand to brush the softness of her cheek. “I should have said it then, but I love you too, Rose. So much.”

Her smile was smug. “I know.” She kissed him again. “Make love to me.”

His entire body pulsed. “I intend to, but there’s one thing I have to do first.”

Rose frowned. “What’s that?”

Grey pulled the brand-new copy of Voluptuous from beneath the pillow where he’d hidden it before going to the ball. “There’s a story in here that I want to read to you.”

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