Page 28 of On the Ropes of Scandal (With Love in Their Corner #3)

The warmth of her called to him; the faint floral scent of her teased his nose.

“I adore how you feel.” Her whisper in the room with the rain in the background enhanced the intimacy of the moment, but it was her fingers on his back, tracing a few scars he’d garnered from boxing that completely broke down the last of the doubts he’d harbored.

“In the event you wondered, you are enough.” She peppered the underside of his jaw with kisses, nipped a line along the column of his throat.

Emotion shivered through him, and for a few seconds, Duncan buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Growth was difficult and painful at times, but he welcomed the opportunities to become a better man—for her, for them—to start building a family together.

This time while he made love to her mouth, he teased a breast with his hand. A moan sounded from the back of her throat and her back arched, for she particularly enjoyed it when he worried her nipples.

“Tonight, I refuse to be denied.” Phoebe urged a hand between their bodies. When she cupped his shaft and stones, he sucked in a breath, for he was so hard that he might pop off at any moment. “I can’t help but marvel about this part of you.”

Oh, God.

Her touch was both heaven and hell, but he didn’t bid her nay.

Pleasure pulsed through his veins, concentrating in his length.

With every stroke, with each brush of her fingers, he was hurled closer to the edge of bliss.

Needing a distraction, Duncan delved a hand between her splayed thighs.

Easily he encouraged the swollen nubbin at her center out of hiding, and seconds later after strumming his finger over it, circling it, alternating degrees of friction, his wife uttered a strangled sort of scream as she fell into a gentle release.

“So responsive.” It was but one of the things he adored about her. “And we have only just begun our journey together.”

“Must be the naughty company I keep.” She squeezed his stones and chuckled at his moan.

Just as he thought to play at her nubbin again, her fingers glanced over the highly sensitive skin that rested between his stones and anus.

The giggle she made when he nearly launched off the bed echoed in his ears.

“Where the hell did you learn that?” He’d assumed only courtesans knew that secret about a man’s body.

“Oddly, your mother gave me a few tips the other day.”

“God, I do not want to think about that, or anything surrounding that conversation.”

She snorted with laughter. “Then why don’t you finish me? I don’t wish for extended foreplay tonight.”

“As if I could deny you anything.” As it was, he was nearly out of his mind with need. He rested the bulk of his weight on his forearms while aligning his tip at her opening. “You’re sure?”

“I am.” She looped her arms about his shoulders, wriggled into a better position, and bumped her hips against his. “And I haven’t had nearly enough of you.”

Bloody hell but he was so damned fortunate he could hardly bear it. Had his brothers felt the same way after they married their wives?

There was no more time to set aside for thinking. Desire and need took command. With a powerful flex of his hips, he penetrated her body, went as deep as he could. Their moans of enjoyment blended with the rain. She was still so damned snug that they were truly fused as one.

The bite of her fingernails digging into his biceps competed with the bite of her teeth when she nipped at his earlobe. He gripped her hip with a hand and encouraged one of her legs upward with the other, which allowed him to stroke ever deeper into her honeyed heat.

Over and over again, Duncan thrust, and she matched his rhythm until they moved effortlessly together in a dance as old as time.

The second he peered into the blue pools of her eyes, saw the same emotions reflected there that were flitting through him, he was lost, and he knew that he would never stray into another woman’s bed, for he had finally found contentment with her.

But did she truly love him? She hadn’t said the words… yet neither had he.

Eventually, he passed the point of no return.

Urgency roared through his shaft and tingled through his stones.

Every tiny little sound of encouragement pushed him closer to shattering, and when she slipped a hand down his back to squeeze one of his arse cheeks, he was gone.

“Phoebe!” The hoarse shout sounded overly loud, but he didn’t care.

The servants would need to understand that this was the first of many couplings he intended to have with his wife.

“Oh, yes. Go harder. Faster.”

How could he deny the request? With the last of his strength, he stroked into her with short, deep, fast thrusts until he thought he might completely expire from either the effort or the pleasure beginning to flood his person.

Finally, her body stiffened. A keening cry left her throat.

Phoebe arched her back, gripped his arms so tightly he feared she’d leave bruises.

Her thighs quivered. Like a litany, she repeated his name, alternated it with the word yes.

The words became his mantra, pushed through his blood, and then with one powerful stroke, he went tip over tail into the void of bliss where nothing existed except extreme, soul-shattering sensation that made him feel comforted, satisfied, and as if he’d somehow perished at the same time.

“Well, damn,” he whispered against the side of her neck as he came back to himself. Sweat dampened his back while he struggled to regulate his breathing.

She chuckled, but the sound held an edge of exhaustion. “I enjoyed that and will require another round soon.” As she drew a hand along his chest, the tickle of her fingers through the sparse hair there nearly sent him to heaven once more, if that was even possible.

“I am glad you’re so satisfied. With everything.” When his wife nodded, he flashed her a tired grin. “Give me an hour and I’ll show you the depth of what I’m feeling.”

She bussed his cheek and then burrowed into him while wrapping an arm about his waist. “Oh? Why not tell me now?”

“I… uh…” Where were the words when he needed them? Perhaps he was reticent for fear it wasn’t love at all that he felt. After all, the past two weeks had been quite a whirlwind. “How about I let my gift talk instead?”

Why am I such a coward?

Before she could answer, Duncan slipped from the bed. He crossed into the adjoining dressing room, retrieved the box of jewelry, then returned to the bedchamber. This time, he alighted on the side of the bed and handed her the box.

“This is one of the only things my father left to me in his will. I don’t know if he wished for me to give it to my wife or if he wanted me to sell it, but I held onto it all the same.” His voice broke only a bit. “Now, I’m giving it to you. It’s the parure your ring came from.”

“Oh?” She struggled into a sitting position, and then with a shaking hand, Phoebe opened the lid. A gasp escaped her. “Merciful heavens, this is beautiful, but far too much.”

“Not for you. In fact, I wish I could give you more—everything. But that might need to wait until I can make something of myself.”

“These will match my gown for tomorrow night.” She touched the stones of the necklace with her fingertips.

Then, with a frown, she met his gaze. “We have a house, servants, and each other. For a girl from Cranleigh, this is already quite a boon.” When she leaned forward and put a palm against his cheek, a shuddering sigh escaped him.

“And, because of you, I now have a family. I don’t need anything else. ”

If he wasn’t careful, he’d tumble right into those shimmering eyes. “Except a baby?”

Remarkably, a blush stained her cheeks. “There is that.”

“And we might have a child before either of my brothers. I don’t believe either sister-in-law is with child yet.

” The idea of finally beating Lewis and Alexander at something tickled him and made him feel even closer to her.

“Just know you are becoming far too dear to me, and that nothing in that box is as valuable as I believe you are.” It was the best he could do in this moment, but eventually he’d say the words.

When the time was right.

“Oh, Duncan.” Tears welled in her eyes then fell to her cheeks. “Are you certain I’m worthy of any of this?”

His heart squeezed hard. “Of course.” He took the box and laid it on the bedside table.

Then he joined her in the bed and pulled her against his body beneath the counterpane.

“Sweeting, if you think I’m worthy as I am, then how can you doubt that you are as well?

” He pressed his lips to her temple. “In an odd way, we will be—are—good for each other, and we will both succeed because we have each other.”

“ This is the man I remember, and you make me so happy I’m a bit fearful it might all dissolve again,” she said in a choked whisper, as she put her arms around him and pulled him down for a kiss.

There was no doubt this time that he was willfully and completely lost in her.

There would be time enough to gather his courage on the morrow and tell her what was being etched on his heart.

In the meantime, he set out to kiss her senseless and worship her again with his body, for at least in that way, he knew he didn’t need bravery.