While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(66)

But this wasn’t supposed to be about revelations. Soon enough he would discover that he had not been wrong about her. She was a deceiver.

For now, in this moment, she would have this. Hunger. Raw desire. Struan.

She wiggled beneath him, gasping into his mouth as shards of pleasure spiked out from where they were joined.

“Keep going,” she commanded, her nails scoring his back through his shirt.

He rocked his hips against her in reflex and she cried out, arching against him.

“Oh, hell, Poppy, you feel good.” He withdrew and drove back inside her. “I’m sorry. It will feel better next time.”

It felt amazing now. An aching pressure built inside her as he moved faster, increasing the delicious friction and tightening that invisible coil low in her belly. It was like before, when he made her fly apart just by using his hand and mouth. Only better. Everything more intense.

She writhed against him, desperate to reach that climax. He hooked a hand under her knee and wrapped her leg around his waist, angling her for deeper penetration.

The next thrust shattered her and she cried out hoarsely. She never felt anything so amazing. So good. Her vision blurred as he pumped inside her again. He continued to move against her, working a steady pace. She dragged her nails through his hair, loving the absolute freedom to touch him, to love him with her hands. His name ripped from her lips.

“Poppy,” he growled in her ear. “Let me hear you scream again.”

She was almost there. Shudders shook through her.

Her head nestled in the warm nook of his neck, muffling her moans. His hand rooted in her hair, pulling her head back to look at him. He held her there, watching, peering into her eyes as he moved inside her, and it felt like he was looking into her soul right then. “I want to see you.”

She nodded jerkily. The familiar burning ache seized her, tightening, bigger, deeper. It made her arch up against him. “Ohh!”

“That’s it, Poppy.” He drove harder into her and she cried out, every nerve ending sizzling and then bursting. She went limp.

He came over her, his lips seizing hers. She groaned into his mouth, feeling his own release follow and shudder through him.

They collapsed down to earth together, his weight on top of her. As heavy as he was, she didn’t want him to ever move. She could stay like this forever.





Chapter 25




After they set their clothes to rights, Struan helped her to her feet. She wobbled a little, clearly unsteady. He grasped her elbow to steady her. She pulled away, putting a circumspect step between them. It almost made him laugh. A little late for propriety.

He should feel bad . . . ashamed even. He’d taken her maidenhood on the ground of the conservatory like any well-used tart.

“Why did you let . . .” His voice faded. He didn’t know what he wanted her to say. What he wanted her to hear from him. Despite everything, he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t.

She shook her head and averted her gaze.

“Poppy?” He took her chin and forced her to look at him.

She moistened her lips. “I wanted it to be you.”

Something unfurled inside him. She’d chosen him. She didn’t have to. She had Autenberry, but she chose him. He waited, hoping she would say more. Hoping she would say that this changed things for them.

“Why?” he demanded. Autenberry was awake now, and yet she gave herself to him. It could mean only one thing. She had to see that. “I’ll tell you why,” he snapped when she didn’t respond. She eyed him warily, but said nothing. “You don’t love him as you think you do.”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Struan, I can’t do this right now. Soon it will all make sense and then you’ll . . .” Her voice faded and bleakness flashed across her face.

“I’ll what?” he pressed.

She closed her eyes in a tight blink. “You’ll understand.”

“I understand you, Poppy. I see you,” he whispered, desperate for her to hear him, to believe. She had to know that this had meant something to him—that she did.

Poppy stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

His heart hammered a wild drum as she gazed up at him.

“No.” She shook her head and tore her stare away as though his eyes, his face, were too much.

“I see the real you. You’re kind and selfless. You put others first before yourself—”

She shook her head. “Stop. No.”

He continued, “You don’t like attention. You don’t want the light to shine on you, but I see you.”

“No.” She pressed a hand to her stomach almost as though his words made her sick. “You don’t see me. You can’t. You think you do, but you’re wrong.”

The sharp edge of something sliced through his chest.

Lifting her skirts, she headed across the grass toward the path leading out of the conservatory.

He fell into step beside her. Something ugly started brewing inside him, threatening to boil over. He had just come as close as he ever had to laying himself bare for a woman. And she was walking away from him.

She glanced at him. “We should not emerge together.”

“Yes. Mustn’t besmirch your reputation. Your duke wouldn’t like that. Tell me, how will he feel when he finds out he didn’t have you first? Will you tell him it was me? Perhaps I should be the one to tell him that.”