The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(106)

She cocked her head coyly. "Your shirt could go, too, I suppose."

He complied, and the linen garment landed on the nightstand.

"Will that be all?"





"These," she said, hooking her finger around the waistband of his breeches, "are definitely in the way."

"I agree," he murmured, shrugging them off. He crawled over her, on his hands and knees, his body a hot prison around her. "Now what?"

Her breath caught. "Well, you're quite naked."

'That is true," he concurred, his eyes burning down on hers.

"And I'm not."

"That is also true." He smiled like a cat."And a pity it is."

Daphne nodded, completely without words.

"Sit up," he said softly.

She did, and seconds later her dress was whipped over her head.

"Now that," he said hoarsely, staring hungrily at her breasts, "is an improvement."

They were now kneeling across from each other on the massive four-poster bed. Daphne stared at her husband, her pulse quickening at the sight of his broad chest, rising and falling with each heavy breath. With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched him, her fingers lightly skimming over his warm skin.

Simon stopped breathing until her forefinger touched his nipple, and then his hand shot up to cover hers. "I want you," he said.

Her eyes flicked downward, and her lips curved ever so slightly. "I know."

"No," he groaned, pulling her closer. "I want to be in your heart. I want—" His entire body shuddered when their skin touched. "I want to be in your soul."

"Oh, Simon," she sighed, sinking her fingers in his thick, dark hair. "You're already there."

And then there were no more words, only lips and hands and flesh against flesh.

Simon worshipped her in every way he knew how. He ran his hands along her legs and kissed the back of her knees. He squeezed her hips and tickled her navel. And when he was poised to enter her, his entire body straining against the most all-consuming desire he'd ever felt, he gazed down upon her with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. "In all my life, it's been only you."





Daphne nodded and although she made no sound, her mouth formed the words, "I love you, too."

He pushed forward, slowly, inexorably. And when he was settled fully within her body, he knew he was home.

He looked down at her face. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she struggled for breath. He grazed her flushed cheeks with his lips. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered. "I've never—I don't know how—"

She arched her back in response. "Just love me," she gasped. "Please, love me."

Simon began to move, his hips rising and falling in time's most ancient rhythm. Daphne's fingers pressed into his back, her nails digging into his skin every time he thrust further into her body.

She moaned and mewled, and his body burned at the sounds of her passion. He was spiralling out of control, his movements growing jerky, more frenetic. "I can't hold on much longer," he gasped. He wanted to wait for her, needed to know that he'd brought her bliss before he allowed himself his own release.

But then, just when he thought his body would shatter from the effort of his restraint, Daphne shook beneath him, her most intimate muscles squeezing around him as she cried out his name.

Simon's breath stopped in his throat as he watched her face. He'd always been so busy making sure he didn't spill his seed inside of her that he'd never seen her face as she climaxed. Her head was thrown back, the elegant lines of her throat straining as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

He was awestruck.

"I love you," he said. "Oh, God, how I love you." Then he plunged deeper.

Daphne's eyes fluttered open as he resumed his rhythm. "Simon?" she asked, her voice tinged with touch of urgency. "Are you sure?"

They both knew what she meant.

Simon nodded.

"I don't want you to do this just for me," she said. "It has to be for you, too."

The strangest lump formed in his throat—it was nothing like his stutters, nothing like his stammers. It was, he realized, nothing but love. Tears stabbed at his eyes, and he nodded, utterly unable to speak.

He plunged forward, exploding within her. It felt good. Oh God, it felt good. Nothing in life had ever felt that good before.



His arms finally gave out, and he collapsed atop her, the only sound in the room the rasp of his ragged breathing.

And then Daphne smoothed his hair from his forehead and kissed his brow. "I love you," she whispered. "I will always love you."

Simon buried his face into her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She surrounded him,

enveloped him, and he was complete.





*



Many hours later, Daphne's eyelids fluttered open. She stretched her arms above her as she noticed that the curtains had all been pulled shut. Simon must have done that, she thought with a yawn. Light filtered around the edges, bathing the room with a soft glow.

She twisted her neck, working the kinks out, then slid out of bed and padded to the dressing room to fetch her robe. How unlike her to sleep in the middle of the day. But, she supposed, this hadn't been an ordinary day.