The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(79)

“And?”

His expression hardened. “She supported her father’s claim. Said she was with him when they saw me leaving his office that night.”

“Bleeding hell.” Tessa’s jaw slackened. “She was in on it?”

“Ensuring that I played the part of the fool,” he said bitterly.

The pieces fell into place. What he’d told her in the carriage after they’d searched De Witt’s study…about why he couldn’t love again. Because he’d been betrayed by the woman he’d believed himself in love with.

Then Tessa remembered something else he’d said.

“In the carriage, you claimed you weren’t in love with her anymore,” she accused.

His brows drew together. “I’m not.”

“Then why were you making love to her?”

“I swear to you I wasn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering, “I was trying to get answers from her about her father, and she just threw herself at me.”

“Likely story,” Tessa said with a huff.

“You can’t honestly think I’d want her after how she betrayed me.”

Hearing the revulsion in his tone, seeing the hard set of his jaw, she said grudgingly, “Maybe not. But you wouldn’t be the first man to think with an organ other than his brain. You cannot deny that Celeste De Witt is a Diamond of the First Water. She’s blonde and willowy and bloody perfection.”

“Not my version of perfection. My taste runs toward petite, curly-haired brunettes who look adorable dressed up as ferrets.” His bespectacled gaze was steady. “I don’t want anyone but you, sprite.”

She tried to hold onto her anger. “Then why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you tell me about your involvement with the De Witts?”

“I’m not proud of my past.” His words were gruff. “And the last thing a man wants to tell the lady he cares for is that he was a stupid bastard.”

He cares for me. It was the closest he’d come to saying that he loved her.

“Oh, Bennett.” Unconsciously, she reached out a hand.

He gripped it like a lifeline. “I haven’t always told you the truth, and I’m sorry for it. But, upon my honor, I vow that I have never lied about my feelings for you.”

“You’re forgiven.” The last of her anger melted away, and she smiled tremulously. “Just don’t lie to me again.”

A spasm of emotion crossed his face, his eyes briefly closing. When they opened, the raw yearning there washed away her doubts. Made her feel confident and beautiful and, most of all, wanted. Made her believe that while she wasn’t perfect, she was the one for him. Just as he was the one for her.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.” His voice was guttural with wonder.

“I don’t know either.” She tipped her head back, whispered saucily, “But I know how you could show your appreciation.”





28





As usual, she had terrible timing.

And, as usual, he was powerless to resist her.

He cupped her face with both hands, feeling how soft and delicate she was. How sweetly trusting. And the ever-present guilt pounded along with desire.

Looking at her heavy-lidded eyes, her parted lips, he burned with wanting…and the urge to unburden himself. To confess his identity, the fact that he was a policeman on a quest to stop the hellfire. What were the chances that she could forgive him, trust him?

I’d trust anyone before a policeman…. Spies, mercenaries, and brutes, the lot of them….

Just don’t lie to me again.

Harry’s gut knotted. He didn’t want to lie to her. Yet, if he told her the truth, she would likely cast him from her life. Now, when she was in danger and needed his protection. Losing her love would be devastating…but putting her life at risk?

He couldn’t do it.

“Bennett?”

The uncertainty in her voice undid him. While he could not express the truth in words, he could show her how he felt. His longing for her which was real and raw and beyond anything he’d felt before. Holding her precious face in his palms, he lowered his mouth to hers.

He wanted her to know that no one, least of all Celeste, could hold a candle to her. He intended the kiss to be a tender worship. An expression of yearning that had no specific destination, nowhere to rush, that was wanting and gratitude rolled into one.

Yet the instant she parted her lips for him, beckoning him inside, the flavor of the kiss changed. He sank deeper, lured by Tessa’s essence so sweet, tart, and fresh. Suddenly, her arms were looped around his neck, and he was pressing her up against a bookshelf, the gentle spark fanned into a blazing hunger. A hunger fueled by all he wanted to say and could not, by the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this. But mostly by pure need.

He nuzzled her earlobe, drawing that plump morsel between his lips. She urged him on with breathy pleas, her honest passion as arousing as any aphrodisiac. He trailed kisses down her neck, the soft slope of her collarbones, over the inviting expanse of her décolletage. She didn’t usually favor low-cut gowns, and while he hadn’t appreciated the way other gentlemen had eyed her bosom, he couldn’t argue with the convenience.

He hooked his middle finger under the line of ermine, finding the skin beneath even softer, silkier than the fur. Her stays restricted access, however, and he couldn’t reach very far.