My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(46)

While Jack had no hesitation admitting that it had begun that way, it had become something very different. He had meant to teach Philip a lesson, but not by coldly seducing Sophie. He might have thought about it during that fateful round of hazard—-imagined her in his bed, her hair down and her face flushed as he woke her by making long, slow love to her . . . Yes, he had imagined all that, but never as a means of revenge on Philip.

Only because he wanted it for himself.

He watched her sleep, his heart pounding. What he felt for her didn’t have one damn thing to do with Philip, and everything to do with his own desires.

But now . . . The rain had stopped. There was no more excuse to keep her to himself in Chiswick. What awaited her in town? Who awaited her in town? The memory of the other fellow lurking behind her at Vega’s stabbed at his mind; a suitor? A hopeful lover? A deep scowl settled on his face. He had no right to ask, but bloody hell, he wondered.

“Sophie,” he murmured, shaking off the thought. If he made her forget every other man in London, it wouldn’t matter who that man was. He bent and pressed his lips to that bare bit of shoulder. “Wake up, darling.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile of pure joy bloomed on her face. He kissed her, clinging to that joy for another few heartbeats.

When he lifted his head, it ended. Her gaze veered to the brightly lit windows, then back to him. “The roads will be drying out.”

“Perhaps,” said Jack with a noncommittal shrug.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then pushed herself upright in bed. “I suppose we should talk, if we’re returning to London—-”

“Why?” He raised her hand, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. “I don’t want to speak of it now.”

“I don’t, either, but—-”

He kissed her again, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. Her arms went around his neck, which was all the encouragement he needed. He bore her back down into the mattress, pulling the linens away until he could hold her flush against him. Then he rolled over, taking her with him, so she sprawled atop him.

She pushed up on straight arms, as if to rise, but he cupped her hips in both hands and urged her against him. “It’s not time to dress yet,” he whispered.

“I thought you rose with the sun to attend to a thousand duties,” she replied, but with a slow smile that made his blood surge in anticipation.

“As it happens”—-he raised one knee, separating her legs until she straddled him, her feminine center hot and wet against his erection—-“I did indeed rise, but I would not call making love to you a duty.”

Her eyes widened for a moment as he continued rocking his hips. She slid one hand down his chest until she took him in her grasp. “If not a duty, then what?”

“The best part of my bloody day,” he growled. “Ride me, Sophie.”

She blushed. “Like this?” She sat back on her heels and put both hands around his member.

Jack inhaled until he felt faint. Her hands were firm and warm, and he felt the incipient flush of climax. He was about to come in her hands, which was not what he wanted. He held his breath until the feeling receded and then opened his eyes.

Her hair fell around her bare breasts and shoulders, as if he’d caught a nymph of old in his bed. Her sherry eyes glowed with desire, but there was something else—-something hesitant—-

“You’ve never done it this way?” He didn’t even need to see the color in her face to know he’d guessed rightly. He rolled up onto his elbows. “It’s much the same,” he said thickly, “as the other way. Spread your knees—-wider—-take me—-guide me—-” His voice choked off as she followed his directions, rubbing his head against her cleft in search of the right position. He couldn’t stop his hips from jerking on instinct, pushing in an inch.

Sophie went still for a moment. Slowly she sank down, taking him deep inside her. Jack’s breath rasped in his chest. “Like this?” She pushed herself up and then slid down again, and his eyes burned as he watched their bodies join.

By God’s bloody eyes, he couldn’t let her go. Philip could go to the devil. Jack wanted this woman like he wanted his next breath.

He fell back into the pillows so he could put his hands on her breasts, her belly, her shoulders, her face. He would never get enough of touching her. She pressed into his hands, her hips moving against his at her own pace. He didn’t want to rush her, he didn’t—-but he was boiling in his own skin, unable to hold it back much longer. He brushed aside the dark curls between her legs and touched her.

“Come with me,” he rasped. He gripped a handful of bed linens, his muscle shaking as he tried to hold back his release.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Jack.” Her spine flexed, her breath caught, and he felt her body close around his with a powerful pull. Just the sight of her rapturous expression would have been enough to send him over the edge, but her climax felt like an explosion that reverberated through him. He threw back his head and shouted in release, his fingers digging into her hips to hold their bodies as tightly connected as possible.

She collapsed on top of him, her skin damp and hot against his. Still gasping for air, he kissed the top of her head blindly. Why the devil had the rain stopped? He would have welcomed a biblical flood at the moment, anything to keep her here with him, away from the disapproving world. Let that world go hang; never in his life had Jack been so happy as he was now, with Sophie in his arms.