The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(71)

She pressed her chest to his and kissed him, her rum-soaked mouth devouring his with heat and desire. Stripping his banyan from his shoulders, she let it drop between him and the bed, then she pushed him back onto the mattress, breaking the kiss. He had to hitch himself up slightly to lie back, but as soon as he did so, she grasped his cock once more. He went completely stiff, blood rushing to fill the shaft.

Then her mouth was on him, her lips and tongue gliding over his flesh. He cast his head back and closed his eyes, all his senses fixed on what she was doing to his cock.

“Jo.” He moaned as she expertly worked his shaft with her hand and her mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever experienced such exquisite ecstasy. He pumped his hips up, and she clasped his backside, her fingers digging deliciously into his flesh.

God, he was going to come, and this was not what he’d envisioned. Plus, he didn’t want to do that. Not this time, at least. He wanted this to be different for her. He hoped it was different.

He reached for her shoulder and tapped her flesh. “Jo.”

She moved faster, her hand stroking and her mouth sucking furiously. His balls tightened, and he was afraid he was lost. “Jo!” He leaned up and grabbed her hand, pulling it away from his flesh.

She stopped and looked at him with dismay. Her cheeks were flushed. “Did I do something wrong?” She sounded so worried. Maybe even a little afraid.

Dammit. He winced. “No.” He sat up and tugged her onto the bed with him. “On the contrary. You were too perfect. I didn’t want to finish like that. I want you beneath me. Writhing. Panting. Moaning my name.”

Her lips curved into a saucy smile. “I like the sound of that.”

With a growl, he tore her robe free and tossed it from the bed. Then he pulled her beneath him and kissed her, his tongue diving into her mouth. She clutched at his neck and shoulders and opened her legs, inviting him to settle between her thighs.

He moved his mouth to her breast, suckling her flesh as he found the wet sheath between her legs. She was hot and ready for him, so he didn’t wait. He slid into her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

He buried himself as far as he could go and devoured her breast. She moaned his name, just as he hoped she would. He withdrew, then plunged forward once more, driving into her with fierce precision. This was no mild coupling. This was wild and passionate. He wanted to erase any memory of her past and promise her a spectacular future.

They moved together, their bodies in perfect harmony. Her muscles contracted around him, and she let out a series of whimpers followed by a low moan ending with his name over and over and over again.

He let himself drown in the sounds and feel of her. The orgasm he’d managed to stave off before crashed into him. He cried out and buried himself deep inside her. He kissed her again pouring all of himself into her.

Minutes later—or maybe hours, he’d completely lost track of anything but her—he slowed and rolled to his back, throwing his arms over his head, panting.

She lifted the covers and slid beneath them, then snuggled into his side, her own breathing harsh and ragged.

He put his arm around her shoulders and stroked her arm. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Thank you for your patience.”

“Thank you for your courage. Not just for tonight, but for the way you’ve given yourself to me. After everything you’ve endured, I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

She stared at him a long moment, and he was sure she was going to say something else. She didn’t, however. She laid her head back against his side and nuzzled him. He felt her yawn and then yawned himself.

“You don’t mind me staying for a while?” she asked, her voice heavy with impending sleep.

“No.” He continued massaging her bicep, his fingers gliding along her flesh.

With his free hand, he pulled the covers up. He brushed his hand along her head, smoothing her lush brown hair. He’d been certain she meant to say something else, and curiosity ate at him.

Could it be that she was going to tell him she loved him?

Idiot, why would you think that? What experience do you have with that emotion?

None, with the exception of his daughter. But this would be a different kind of love, the romantic kind. He’d felt deep affection for Louisa, but this was definitely not the same. Maybe he suspected Jo was in love with him because he was in love with her. How would he know? He’d described the love he felt for Evie as an emotion that, once experienced, had forever altered his soul. He realized that was precisely how he felt.

Tonight he’d envisioned a future with her, not some nebulous possibility, but a real future where she never left his chamber at night. He leaned his head down and kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.

But he knew she was already asleep.





Chapter 17





After reluctantly leaving Bran’s bed before dawn, Jo had returned to her chamber and fallen into a deep, satisfied slumber. She was so happy, so content.

So when she woke up to the feel of sticky wetness between her thighs, she panicked.

It could be from last night, she told herself, even as ice coated her flesh.

Anxiety lacing through her, she eased back the covers of her bed and looked down. Despair stole though every corner of her body, robbing her of breath and coherence.