Page 39 of Seven Nights with the Wicked Duke (Regency Beasts #3)

C ecilia did not remember walking to his bed. One moment she was in Theo's arms, caught in the storm of his kiss, and the next, she felt the tantalizing heat of his touch devouring every part of her body.

The fire that had dimmed to a low glow in hearth made the moment even more magical for her. Everything about Theo was extraordinary. Every moment with him.

She was barely aware of her own breathing. All she knew was that it came faster, her chest lifted and fell so heavily it was meant to scare her.

But such fear was the last thing on her mind when she was being swept by his hands, by his presence, by his soul. He touched her as if he meant to memorize her, with care and curiosity, like each inch of her skin was worthy of discovery.

She had dreamed of this—nights when sleep refused her, when longing crawled under her skin and demanded imagining—but none of those dreams had ever prepared her for the heat in his gaze or the reverence with which he handled her body.

"Are you nervous?" Theo asked, breaking the silence with his voice that felt like a gentle wind caressing the depth of her soul.

Her cheeks got inflamed when he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. It was a faint touch, yet the effect was undeniable, and the proof could be felt by the wetness between her legs.

"A little," she admitted, her voice breathless and soft. "But not enough to stop."

His smile was gentle with a little touch of naughtiness. "I would never rush you, my lady. Not tonight. Not ever."

She reached up to run her fingers through the curls that framed his face. "Then don't speak of stopping."

His chuckle was low, but there was tension in his shoulders still. A part of him, she knew and could tell, struggled between desire and restraint.

That was always Theo. He was always fighting himself harder than he ever fought anyone else.

She noticed this. And before the restraining part of himself took total control of him, she let her fingers travel to the buttons of his shirt.

"I want to see you," she told him quietly, as though if she spoke any louder, the moment would get lost.

He caught her hand, not to stop her, but to steady her.

"I must warn you," he said with another smile. Except this time, the smile is a mere shadow of itself. "You might be disappointed. I have more scars than skin."

She didn't flinch. "If you have more than I already saw earlier, then I'll just have to see every scar again. To learn them like you've been learning me."

That was all it took. Her words. Their flavor. Their contents. All it took.

He leaned down to press his lips to hers again, and this time, there was nothing tentative about the way his mouth moved over hers.

His taste of warmth and promise forced a moan to slip out of her lips. His mouth moved against hers with unspoken words and his hands slid down her body with long-denied pleasure.

His fingers tugged at her chemise, playing with the fabric until her shoulders were bared.

Instantly, Cecilia gasped into his mouth as the cool air touched her skin. She shuddered from the mixture of the coldness and the head of his body. It was a dangerous combination.

And when his kiss dropped to the hollow of his collarbone, then lower, she moaned, squeezing the bed sheet a bit tightly.

As if marking a path of devotion, the press of his lips continued to drop lower, cherishing her, making her feel so wholly wanted.

"You drive me nuts, Cecilia. How do you do it?" Theo's breathing came out ragged before he pulled at the fabric around her waist, leaving her fully undressed.

It was her first time, lying beneath a man in nothing. Yet, she felt no shame. He looked at her like she was some divine offering, and it made her bold.

"What do you mean by you are not beautiful?" His voice sounded before dropping a kiss beneath her ear.

She sat up in response, feeling an insatiable heat pulsing through her. Her fingers found his shirt before ripping it off his body. In the dim light, he let her undress him in silence, his eyes never leaving hers, even as her fingers trembled when they traced over the brutal scars lining his chest.

Just like before, scars travelled across his thighs and legs. Some were pale and faded, long healed. Others were newer—jagged, angry lines across his flesh.

Her breath caught in her throat, not from disgust, but from awe. Every mark on his body was a story he hadn't told her. And he had survived them all.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one.

"I love every inch of you," she murmured.

His breath hitched. She was saying that again. And every time she did, it did something to her.

"Even the broken parts?" he whispered.

"Especially those," she said. "They make you human."

He swallowed hard, and then he pulled her into his arms before laying her back against the bed once again.

"And I love every inch of you as well, my lady." He bent his head, speaking against his skin. "I wish to spend my whole life worshiping you," he added before lowering his head against her chest.

When his mouth captured her nipple, she burned. When his tongue tasted the curve of her breast, she cried out softly, clinging to him as sensation bloomed through her.

He lingered there, his mouth teasing and sucking, tongue flicking softly over her nipple, then the other.

"Theo…" His name fell from her lips as her body arched into his as if seeking more of him.

Responding to her, one of his hands roaming her thigh, bringing flame to every part of her flesh.

"I need to know how much your body wants me, Cee," he stated before pushing her thighs open.

Now she trembled, loving every moment but finding herself too weak to make up words. And when a finger of his pressed gently against her inner thighs, she bit her lower lip tightly.

"How wet are you, my lady?" His voice was rough, a huge contrast to his touch that moved higher and pressed against the lips between her legs.

"Theo…" Once again, his name was the only word in her brain at that moment.

"Goodness." He pushed himself close before biting softly at her neck as his finger slipped past the wetness between her legs.

Cecilia gave her all into this kiss, her whole senses destabilized at his gentle caress in her most intimate parts.

"I want to explore you till I memorize every inch of you," he stated as his fingers begin to pump inside her with practiced slowness. The fact that she was a virgin made her even extra cautious.

Every act of his made her pulse thunder, and he teased her until she was moaning and shifting beneath him, the wave of pleasure tightening with every pass of his touch.

And then he replaced his fingers with his mouth. No warning, catching her off guard that she let out a vocal gasp.

Her back arch as his tongue lapped at her center. Cecilia had read about this—devoured scenes in her forbidden novels that detailed such acts—but nothing had prepared her for the reality of Theo's mouth on her.

The pleasure was devastating, consuming. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he worked her into a frenzy. His tongue taking her to edges she had never been to. She felt the heat pool in her belly, growing sharper with each moment.

And when he pushed her over the edge, her cry was loud and unrestrained, filling the quiet of the room.

Theo kissed her inner thigh once more, then her hip, then her stomach, making his way back to her lips.

"You're trembling," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"I never imagined it could feel like that," she confessed. "Like losing myself."

"You don't lose yourself with me," he said, kissing her tenderly. "You find yourself."

"And I want to do that, in every way possible," she told him, and her words spoke of more unspoken words.

Immediately, he understood.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice soft, and a bit nervous. He wanted to be sure that whatever happened that night was what she wanted. He never wanted to break something so beautiful like her.

"More than anything." She squeezed his shoulders tightly.

Then he kissed her once again, his lips pressing against hers hard and yet so tender.

He positioned himself between her legs, his hands circling around her till his palms grabbed her ass.

In response, her fingers dug into his shoulders, wanting to hold him tight as she gave herself to him.

Giving her some time to brace herself, he moved slowly before pressing forward and pushing himself inside her.

Cecilia's grip tightened around him. She fought back her cry, but she didn't resist. Yes, there was pain, sharp and brief, but it faded as quickly as it came, swallowed by the fullness of him inside her.

Theo stayed still for a moment inside her, his breathing heavy.

"I won't move until you tell me to," he said, voice ragged.

Cecilia lifted her hips and whispered, "Now."

He obeyed.

His rhythm started slow, careful, but it built with every breath, every whisper of her name. He kissed her as he moved, their bodies pressed against each other in an impossibly tender manner.

Each thrust inside her drove her closer to that range again, her nails digging into his skin, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

She didn't want to let go. Not ever.

"Cecilia." He responded to her, saying her name like a prayer. Over and over again.

"Theo…" She said his like it was salvation. "You can go faster now."

And then he obeyed once again, picking up his speed as he slammed into her, biting her ear lobe softly. Their breathing became ragged, the sweat of their bodies mixing together.

When they both finally shattered, she hugged him tightly, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming relief of finally, finally belonging.

In response, Theo's arms enveloped her like something precious.

After a long silence, he whispered, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she murmured against his neck. "You gave me something I've never had. You gave me freedom."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Then I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel caged again."

Together, they remained in silence for some time. Her head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. In the silence, every memory of them swam her mind. Sure, they have known each other for a long time but the one that felt so real had been the nights after the party.

She traced slow, absentminded circles on his skin, marveling at how natural it felt to be beside him like this. As if all the longing, all the denial, had led to this inevitable quiet.

"I used to think…" Cecilia began softly, her voice half-swallowed by the hush in the room, "that I would always belong to someone. My brother. A husband I hadn't chosen. Society. But I never imagined what it would feel like to belong with someone."

Theo's arm tightened around her, his breath catching as he exhaled into her hair.

"You do belong with someone," he said, and she felt the brush of his lips at her temple. "You belong with me."

She tilted her chin up, their noses nearly touching, and the weight of what had passed between them filled the space with warmth.

"You said that so simply," she whispered. "As if it was the easiest truth in the world."

"It is. I've spent so long convincing myself that I didn't deserve this. That I wasn't made for it. But tonight, you undid every lie I told myself."

She looked at him, truly looked. The golden light from the fire kissed the sharp lines of his face, softened him, made him something close to vulnerable. "Do you still think you don't deserve to be loved?"

"I think," he said, carefully choosing the words, "that I spent years trying not to want it. But with you, it never felt like a want. It felt like breathing. I never stood a chance."

Her throat tightened. "Good. Because I was always going to love you. Even when I hated you for rejecting me. Even when I told myself I should marry the viscount and forget."

Theo groaned dramatically and buried his face in her shoulder. "Not that stickhead."

She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. "Yes, well, you can thank your scandalous mouth and ridiculous charm for ruining me. I'll never be able to look at another man the same."

He lifted his head. "And I'll never paint another woman."

That made her blink. "Truly?"

"I used to think it was my way of capturing beauty," he said, brushing his fingers along her arm.

"But now I realize I was always searching for something I hadn't yet seen.

Something that made sense of everything I felt and feared.

Then you came crashing into my studio in your wild rebellion and impossible dreams—and there it was. "

"The gown," she said softly, remembering the portrait. "You painted me wearing that gown from the solstice ball."

He nodded. "Because that was the moment I knew. The first moment I knew I wouldn't survive you."

She felt the words in her chest like an arrow. It was sharp, piercing, permanent. She leaned forward and kissed him so softly.

When they broke apart, her fingers brushed across the curve of his shoulder, lingering on a jagged scar there.

"Tell me about this one?" she asked, curiosity soft.

He hesitated. "France. A duel. Foolish reasons, really."

"Were you defending someone's honor?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I was defending my own. I hadn't yet learned it wasn't worth the blood."

She kissed the scar gently. "What is worth the blood, Theo?"

"You," he said, without hesitation.

And suddenly she was blinking rapidly, tears threatening again, not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of everything he gave her. No man had ever made her feel anything close to this.

"You say the most dangerous things," she murmured.

"I mean every word."

They fell into silence again, their bodies wrapped up, exposed and divinely. She could stay like that for hours. She didn't mind breathing in his space for hours. Then, she shifted even closer, crawling on top of him slowly with her hands resting on his chest.

He looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

"I want more," she said, without shame.

Theo smiled at her words, a slow and wicked one. "You're insatiable."

"I've been patient."

He ran his hands down her hips, grounding her carefully. "You've been magnificent."

She bent forward to kiss him again, taking her time, tasting him deeply. When she pulled away, she looked him in the eye. "Will it always be like this between us?"

His thumb brushed her cheek. "God, I hope not."

She blinked. "What?"

He laughed at her perfect reaction before catching her lips again. "Because if it gets any better, I'll never survive it." Then he responded, mouth pressed against hers.

She laughed, collapsing onto his chest, breathless with an unquenchable joy filling her spirits.

"I love you, Theo," she whispered, closing her eyes.

His arm circled around her again. "And I love you, Cecilia."