Page 45 of Her Temporary Duke (Rakes and Roses #2)

A low, guttural sound roiled from his chest. He reached the bed in three strides and threw her down, her back sinking into the mattress as she reached for him—pulling, tugging, frantic for bare skin.

She shoved his coat aside, ripped his shirt open without care for buttons.

He wrestled free of the rest, stripped her completely, and came down over her with nothing left between them.

His mouth found hers, deep and urgent. Hands skimming over ribs, breasts, thighs. When he slid a hand between her legs, she arched into it, gasping at the first touch. He groaned, dragging his mouth to her neck as her fingers tangled in the damp curls at his nape.

“You’re soaked,” he said hoarsely. “Christ, Charlotte, how long...”

She didn’t want words. She kissed him again, fiercely this time, lifting her hips in silent demand.

No more teasing. No more waiting. He braced himself above her, eyes dark and breath shallow.

One hand caught her thigh and pushed her open, the other wrapped around him, positioning himself as the thick head of him nudged against her entrance.

The pressure of him there had her stiffening, breath held.

Their eyes met.

“I’ll go slow,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “Don’t.”

He pressed in.

When he pushed in, she felt it everywhere. Her lips parted on a sharp inhale as he breached her, just barely—and then more. The stretch burned, then bloomed. He groaned, deep in his chest, fighting for control, but she didn’t want control. She wanted all of him.

He sank deeper, inch by aching inch, until he was fully inside her. She let out a sound that wasn’t quite a cry. His name, maybe. Or just breath broken apart.

“Move,” she whispered heavily. “Please.”

He did.

The rhythm built fast. Hard. Their bodies met in a series of delicious shocks.

She gripped his steely hips with her thighs, anchored herself to him, let him take her with a raw, desperate kind of tenderness.

His hands cupped her rosy cheeks one moment, then slid down to her hips, guiding her into each thrust.

She was close— too close—and he must have felt it, because he slowed.

Then, with a growled curse, he pulled out and flipped her. Her front hit the mattress, and he dragged her hips up beneath him.

She gasped, biting back a moan as his hands slid over her back, palms rolling over her hips before he spanked her once. Her knees braced wider and her breath stuttered.

He entered her again—slower this time, deeper. The new angle hit something inside her that made her cry out. He caught her wrists, pressing them into the bed beside her head as he began to move.

This wasn’t sweet. It was thick with longing.

Longing of mere weeks. Her breath came in broken gasps.

Each thrust drove her into the sheets. She clenched around him, shaking, as sweat beaded from his muscular chest and trickled down to her spine.

He leaned over her, mouth nuzzling her shoulder as his pace grew ruthless.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you belong to me.”

“I do,” she gasped, body tightening. “I belong to only you. Don’t stop—”

But he didn’t need her words to know. Her body said it first.

She came apart with a shudder so fierce her vision blurred, her wrists still pinned, her mouth open on a silent scream.

Every muscle seized and trembled around him.

Her cheek was pressed to the pillow. He followed a moment later, voice breaking against her skin as he buried himself to the hilt and let go with a shudder that rocked through both of them.

He didn’t pull away. Just collapsed over her, mouth hot at her neck, murmuring her name like a devotion.

Twilight darkened the window as Charlotte lay in her husband’s arms beneath the bedclothes. Her head lay on the pillow facing him, her limbs entwined with his, and her muscles felt like water.

“So, do you think that you would like to make blacksmithing your trade?” she asked quietly.

“You mean to know whether it is for certain that Tewkesbury has inherited the Dukedom and all its estates?”

Charlotte nodded primly.

“As to that, I have enjoyed my first experience of manual labor, but it is far from our only course,” Seth replied with a secretive smile.

“What do you mean?” she asked, propping her head on one hand.

Seth smirked wolfishly. “Tewkesbury has by now discovered something that even Monkton did not know. There is very little left for him to enjoy as Duke. The staff are on contracts of employment that will expire at the end of the year. The house is in need of major investment in order to renovate. There is not much money left for Monkton to take a share of.”

“How?” Charlotte asked, amazed.

“My father had a series of reversals of fortune that he concealed from everyone but his bankers. After death duties, the pot that I inherited was reduced further. I then set about decimating it.”

Charlotte laughed aloud before she could stop herself. “You mean that you spent it all?”

He shook his head, his damp golden hair framing his face handsomely.

“No, a small portion I put aside on the advice of my bank.

In fact, it was invested in a number of ventures on this side of the border.

And managed by responsible men on my behalf, those investments have blossomed.

But they were made in my name, not under the Dukedom.

“Unusual, yes, due to the fortune I potentially surrendered by not taking advantage of my title, but at least they belong to me, not to Bellmonte. You need to have no fear of poverty. I may not have a title any longer, but very soon, I shall still be a man of means.”

Charlotte felt a surge of relief. She had not realized how much anxiety she had locked up within her about how she and Seth would live.

That he would take up the life of a working man had seemed surreal—not because he would not or could not do it, but because it seemed nonsensical to her that a man like him would be working in a field or sweating over a forge.

In her mind, he had always been destined for more. To make a greater change in the world.

“So… about now, Tewkesbury will be discovering that his new title is paper thin,” Charlotte murmured.

“And that paper supports a mountain of debt, all secured against Bellmonte. Against the house and the properties. Maybe he will emerge from it like a phoenix from the flames. Maybe he is a man of ability who will correct the tangle I left behind.” Seth shrugged. “But it is not a position I envy.”

She scrunched her nose. “You feel no animosity?”

“I care not. I have what I want. I am the victor. The moment I broke my sword in front of him and walked away, I won. Now I have you, nothing else matters.”