Page 11 of A Duke for Stealing (The Devil’s Masquerade #4)

CHAPTER SIX

“ H mmm, what am I doing?” Everett huskily replied, tracing his lips lightly over hers.

Rose wanted to sink into the heady feeling of desire that was taking over her, but she knew she shouldn’t.

She knew better. Everett was infamous for his seduction, and she would not be just another fly caught in his trap…

yet as he brought her closer, let his lips, warm and full, skim over hers, she found herself unable to reach for words.

The hold Everett had on her throat felt too good; the scent of mint and pine mingled with his naturally masculine scent, surrounding her and making her head swim.

And his eyes. Those deep pools of green, sparkling with gold, had her in an absolute hold.

Perhaps she could give in. If only just a little…

With a soft breath, Rose closed her eyes and let herself lean into Everett.

A heavy cloak of desire wrapped around her as Everett’s lips finally made full purchase on hers, and she sighed in relief as she tasted him again.

Powerful, dominating; his kisses pulled her into that sweet pool of pleasure again, and she let go.

Deep-voiced words she couldn’t understand murmured from Everett’s lips as he slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her body flush to his, and she boldly reached up to slide her hands around his neck.

Dizzying pleasure filled her as his hands wandered and massaged up her back and down her backside, and she whimpered when he pressed their hips together.

Beneath the fabric of her skirts and his trousers, she could feel his manhood pulsing, straining- and rubbing a particularly delicate spot she’d never known existed until her entire body trembled and her mind went completely blank.

Rose was not even aware that he’d been moving her backward until she felt the edge of the table at her buttocks, but she broke the kiss with a gasp as Everett pulled back and slowly guided her back onto the table’s surface.

“What are you doing?” She breathed, looking up at him as his strong body hovered above her.

“Touching my wife,” Everett replied, his voice raspy and strained as he lowered his head to hers again.

Rose whimpered as he began to kiss her again, his lips and tongue coaxing her until she parted her lips and gave his tongue access.

Pleasure scurried over her spine and shot through her fingertips as he felt his tongue massage her tongue, and she felt a thrilling helplessness as she let herself let go of her control.

Falling further under the seductive spell, Rose traced her hands up Everett’s back, beneath his jacket, and she moaned as she felt a wall of solid muscle and heat lying beneath the thin white shirt he wore.

As if it had urged him, Everett rose up on his suddenly, ripped away his jacket, and flung it away before his lips descended on hers again.

“You want to explore, little one? Know what it’s like to touch a man?” He teased as he pressed hot kisses down her throat.

Yes. God yes.

He reached for her hand, returning it to his lower back, and bid her to untuck his shirt.

She did, yanking the fabric out of the hem of his trousers and gasping once more as she felt his naked flesh beneath her hands.

It was hot, solid. It hummed beneath her fingertips as if a storm roiled just beneath.

Growing bolder, she brought her other hand up and dragged her nails delicately down the long, hot expanse of his back just as Everett sank his teeth into her neck and growled.

More. She wanted to feel more of him. Hungered for it.

She drew her fingertips around his sides, relishing in the way Everett shivered as her hands touched the slabs of muscle that were his abdomen; then she ventured lower, to where that pulsing length was pressing hotly between her slightly parted legs.

“Kiss me,” Everett demanded in that throaty, desperate tone as he raised his head from her neck.

He did not wait for her, but instead took her kiss with fervor as his hands traveled up the sides of her waist and up to her breasts. She let out a breathy cry as he squeezed them tightly, and her hips shot forward on their own, right into her hand, which had just cupped over his bulge.

Everett’s full body flinch to her brave touch was violent, and through their mutual moans of passion, another sound broke out. Something heavy had fallen, and close to them. Soon after, heat began to bloom on the right side of Rose’s face.

Everett must have felt it too, for he lifted his head away from hers with a look of annoyance, wondering what foolish person would interrupt a moment such as this.

But then, suddenly, Everett’s body went rigid in a very different sort of way, and the next thing Rose knew, she was being dragged off the table and forced to stand.

She looked at him wildly, wondering what had just happened, and then Everett flew to the table with his jacket outstretched.

It was then that Rose saw the fallen candelabra, still lit, and the line of flames that had eaten away at the tablecloth.

Everett cursed as he beat this jacket over the flames, snuffing them out with quick, heavy strokes, until nothing was left but scorch marks, smoke, and the stench of burnt cotton.

When it was out, Everett turned back to Rose, his chest still heaving, his green eyes still glittering with unchecked passion.

“You really must be more careful with me, Rose,” he stated, his eyes flicking down her body.

His vicious tone snapped Rose out of her reverie, and she took a step back, demanding her burning body to cool.

“Do not act as if this was my fault!” She retorted, and her anger spiked when he let out a tortured laugh.

“Oh, it is certainly your fault, Rose,” he replied, tucking in his shirt. “Sparring with me. Looking as you do. So proud and beautiful as if you were the Queen.”

Rose’s mouth gaped, unable to believe that after his seductive tactics, it was he who was putting the blame on her!

“You are monstrous,” she snarled, pushing back the curls that had come loose from their clasps. “You hear me? Positively monstrous!”

Everett smirked, a most handsomely wicked expression that made her blood grow warm all over again.

“Yes, I am,” he agreed, raising a pointed finger at her as he stepped closer, “And you best remember that the next time you wish to spar with me.”

Rose took several steps back, refusing to get caught in whatever thrall he cast all over again.

Her heart beat thundered in her ears as she turned around and all but ran to the room, feeling foolish how aroused she’d gotten with this man.

She knew better, and yet she’d allowed him to corner her- again.

Rose sat curled up in her very favorite chair in her library, trying her best to become absorbed in her book.

She’d read a few words, glance up at the fire, adjust her body that had yet to cool from Everett’s touch- then she’d try to read again.

It was a cycle she had been caught in for the last two hours- ever since she’d given up on sleep and left her quarters.

She had hoped that reading would distract her from what had happened.

That the story would carry her somewhere far away- but it was no use.

It was a romance book, as most of her collection was, and every time she read about the characters coming close to one another, the scene in the book would vanish, and in its place would be the memory of her and Everett atop the dining room table.

Finally, she gave up and slammed the book shut.

Reading was not going to help her either.

However, perhaps a drink would. She was timid about partaking too much.

At balls and parties, she always accepted a glass of wine or champagne, but on her own, she never imbibed.

Too afraid that one drink would lead to another and turn her into her mother.

However, given the particular circumstance, perhaps one would not hurt.

A glass of red wine. Just one. Just enough to ease the tension in her neck and let her drift off to sleep.

There was a bottle in her room. She’d seen one atop the mantle along with a tray of glass and a corkscrew.

She’d never opened a bottle before, but she decided she could manage it alone.

She’d seen her mother and their staff do so several times. Just plunge, twist, and pull.

Yes. That was what she would do. Just a little. Just to help her relax.

Abandoning her book on the chair, Rose tucked her robe around her nightgown and left the library.

She was passing the twins’ room when she suddenly heard a noise and stopped.

Worry laced through her veins as she pressed an ear to the pink door and listened.

Sure enough, she heard a set of sorrowful sobs pass through the door.

“Oh, poor things,” she whispered, pressing her hand to the knob. She opened the door, prepared to go in, when she heard Everett’s voice speaking in low, consoling tones, and she stopped, leaving just enough space so she could poke her head in. What she saw made her heart warm and clench.

“There, there, girls, it is alright,” Everett coaxed.

He was sitting on Leah’s bed, patting her blanket-covered knees as he held a sobbing Diana on his lap, her little arms tight around his neck.

“It was just a bad dream,” he soothed. “Just a terrible nightmare. But it’s over now.”

Then why does it still hurt?” Leah sobbed, fists held tight to her eyes.

Rose’s heart shuddered at the sight. Leah so far had only been angry and strong-willed; she had never seen the little girl show the true hurt she’d been feeling.

“I miss them, Uncle Everett,” Diana sobbed softly into his chest, “I miss them so much.”

Everett pressed his cheek against Diana’s head, looking absolutely miserable.

“I know my darlings. I miss them too.”

“How can you say that?” Leah cried, “You weren’t there! You were never there! They died alone, and it is your fault!”