Page 53 of The Duke is Wicked
He’d only gotten into one fistfight so far, with Finn, denying he was in love until his throat was raw, while trying to wipe the silly grin off the boy’s face. They all—Julian, Finn, Piper, Victoria, hell, even Humphrey—believed it would work out, that he’d break her. Like Delaney was an untamed horse, and he, her new owner.
They believed it was only a matter of time before he made her change her mind about becoming a duchess.
When he hadn’t found the courage to offer again.
Not when the lady was unwilling.
He’d considered his wretched proposal a thousand times. The attempt had been flavored with sexual release, the most explosively erotic night of hislife—and he’d reacted like a brute. Like the Cro-Magnon she’d accused him of being in a rather rousing argument that had ended with her bent over the desk he currently sat upon. Another argument lost but won, spoils paid out in shared pleasure.
They were trapped in competition.
Archery, chess, billiards,life, where he wasn’t giving up, and neither was she. Consequently, they danced around each other’s wishes while stripping off their clothing all over the estate, never talking about where the union was heading, only diving in headfirst. Her favored approach, not his. Every day, Delaney got in deeper with the League, and he got in deeper with her. He hadn’t fallen, but hehadslipped. Like settling into a warm bath, comfort and calm and home.
Things he’d yearned for and never imagined he’d have.
Between the soft beats of his heart, Delaney had become essential to his happiness. He’d finally found the woman who fit him like a lost puzzle piece. An outspoken, overconfident, marginally-educated genius. Lighthearted, carefree and droll, the antihesis of an English chit. She made him laugh—and he realized from the shocked expressions, maid to majordomo, that he hadn’t laughed often before.
When she took him into her body, when they whispered in the dead of night and ate breakfast by the fire in their altogether, it was Sebastian Tremont, just the man, she claimed.
He’d never been more certain about wanting tobethat man.
In the chilled coziness of their dungeon, on that very night, he accepted his defeat. He nearly smiled, imagining theton’sreaction to him not only marrying the Terrible One, but also being in desperate and hopeless love with her.
His friends, hisfamilydidn’t understand that he wanted her for who she was, not who she couldbe. She’d been out-of-the-gate perfect, and he wanted her.
And he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.
“Was the nightmare a bad one?” she asked without looking up from her text, sensing, as she often did, his unease.
Sebastian frowned, his fingers stilling on the strings. He’d been plucking,agitated composition,she liked to call it. “I dreamed you found another note. Then it went up in smoke before we could read it. I’m ruining your sleep with these damned visions. But somehow, dreaming of fires seems to keep me from setting them.”
“No more notes, only a sullen Simon, trying to find a path to this girl stuck in the in-between. What must he feel to be connected, yet not an actual part of her world?”
“What must that feel like,” Sebastian murmured.
Pausing, her pale gray gaze swept his face, searching. He wasn’t sure for what, but he always,always, allowed her to look. When before, he’d have closed himself off.
That washismeaning of love.
He wondered what hers was. Wondered if their children would have eyes the color of rain or embers? Rattled, the string popped beneath his fingers with a twang.
She tilted her head, then touched the spot between her eyes where spectacles, should she have been wearing a pair, would sit.Told you, her sly look said.
Sebastian flushed and fidgeted, nudging the spectacles high on his nose. “Theydohelp.”
She shrugged, looking down to hide a triumphant smile. No need to rub it in when the womanlovedrubbing it in. “Squinting and headaches. I’m no doctor, but the answer was simple.”
“They add a certain debonair charm, am I right?”
She glanced up, grinning. Christ, he loved her smile. “Oh, you know Iadorethem. Almost as much as I adore your hair. And that is quite the coup. When they arrived from London by special messenger, and I saw you in them that first time, I feared I’d expire on the spot. Of course, wearing them with nothing else later that night made me very, very happy.”
He laughed, unable to stop it. Then he was on his feet and crossing to her, unable to stop that, either. He was making a fool of himself—but perhaps she hadn’t completely noticed, and that left only the pup to see.
Sebastian crouched before her, framed her face with his broad palms and brought her lips to his. The kiss was a lush, elegant, swift engagement in a world of their creation and their creation only. Every time, touching her left a more profound imprint while he gave a piece of himself away. She was making the ragged sounds in the back of her throat that tore him up, pressing closer, offering herself in her bountiful manner. She was reaching, fingers tangling in his hair, her other hand going lower, her checkmate move, when he stopped her.
She blinked, revealing an ashen gaze dappled with indigo flecks one would miss if one weren’t looking closely. And he’d been looking closely. Her eyes only darkened when he thrust inside her and not a moment before. Never a moment before.
“You’re going to make me beg, is that it?” Her focus dropped to the bulge beneath his trouser close as if to say,why,when you want me as much as I want you?