Page 36 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)

S ebastian knew Amelia would be at Almack’s with Finch. He had arranged it—gone so far as to use his grandmother’s name to secure Finch’s entry. It was a calculated move, meant to buy Amelia respectability. A chance at a future unmarred by scandal.

What a fool he had been.

He had not written her. Had not visited. He had forced distance between them, telling himself it was for her sake. That she deserved a clean slate.

And now she was dancing with another man.

Not just any man. Mr. Carlton. Handpicked by Finch.

Vetted by his own grandmother. Amelia had danced with other men, but this particular one got too close.

He was the ‘good man’ Finch had been tasked to find, after all.

Handsome and proper, Mr. Carlton seemed to be the best choice for Amelia. Everything Sebastian was not.

Amelia smiled at him— smiled. She laughed softly at something he said. She tipped her head just slightly, the way she did when she was interested.

Sebastian stood in the shadows, his jaw clenched, one hand locked around his glass like a vice. It was a miracle it had not shattered. Jealousy twisted in his gut, hot and relentless. It clawed up his chest until it threatened to choke him.

“You are going to break the damn thing,” Cassian said behind him, his tone dry but firm.

“I agree. Let the glass go and go get the girl,” Benedict added. “You are ruining your life here, without even giving it a fighting chance.”

Sebastian said nothing.

“You have done enough pretending,” Cassian pressed. “This is not a game anymore.”

But Sebastian did not move. Could not. He had made his choice—no matter how bitter it now tasted on his tongue.

They left him alone.

He drained his glass in one swallow, then another. Drink dulled the edges of his fury, but not the vision of Amelia’s face lit by someone else’s presence. Her joy. Her ease. Her future with a man who was not him.

I handed her over. With my own bloody hands.

By the time he stumbled into a private room, his thoughts were molten and poisonous. He hated the feel of the walls. Hated the silence. Hated himself.

And yet— he could not stop seeing her .

He collapsed into the chair, the tumbler slipping from his fingers and rolling across the floor. When the knock came at the door, he did not lift his head.

“Get out,” he growled, his voice thick with whiskey and something far more dangerous.

Because if he saw another man’s hand on her again—if he heard another laugh meant for someone else—he might not be able to restrain himself.

The door creaked open, igniting a fresh wave of irritation. Sebastian did not bother looking up. Cassian again, he thought bitterly. Or Benedict, with more unsolicited advice. Instead, he heard a rustle of silks and smelled roses and apples.

“I will not,” Amelia said quietly, her voice calm, controlled. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

Sebastian’s eyes snapped open. No, not now. Not like this.

“Amelia,” he rasped. “What in the devil are you doing here?”

She folded her arms, fury radiating from her every angle. “I should be asking you that,” she said icily. “What game are you playing with my brother?”

He laughed bitterly as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. This was not how he wanted her to see him, but there they were.

“Your brother? He merely did as he was told,” he admitted too freely, given the drink. “He played the doting brother all too willingly, and all too well.”

Her brows pulled together, hurt flickering through her glare. “Why would you do this?” she asked. “Why would you orchestrate my future like that and then disappear?”

Sebastian stood abruptly, wavering just slightly before grounding himself. “You wanted a future, Amelia. You wanted love . A husband. Safety. That is what I gave you.”

Her flinch at the way he spat the word ‘love’ stabbed at him, but he could not take it back now.

“You do not get to decide what I want, Sebastian,” she snapped, voice tight. “If I were to marry, I would want it to be you .”

“You should not,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You should know better than that, Amelia. Such things could not be expected of me,” he gritted out.

His head pounded, the spirits still taking control but barely now, with Amelia’s presence filling the room.

“You said that you wanted to leave London, but I was trying to give you a chance to stay .”

“But you never asked what I wanted. ”

They were close now. Almost too close. The heat of her anger mixed with the heat of his desperation. Sebastian’s hands twitched at his sides. Every part of him ached to touch her. Pull her in. Beg her to choose him and damn the consequences.

But what if she did? What then?

Amelia was not certain what was going on, but soon, Sebastian cupped the back of her neck and pulled her toward him.

Their lips crashed, devouring, desperate.

There was no tenderness this time, no restraint.

His kiss was demanding, almost punishing in its urgency.

Her fingers clutched his coat, pulling him closer as his tongue swept into her mouth, dominating.

Her knees weakened beneath her, and she whimpered into his mouth.

“We should not,” he groaned, even as his hands moved with maddening confidence—one sliding to her waist, the other down to cup the curve of her backside. His body was hard, taut with desire, but his voice was laced with torment. “We cannot do this.”

“Please do not stop, Sebastian,” she begged then. She was trembling with desire, and perhaps something more. All she knew was that she needed him. “Claim me. Take me.”

He growled as he backed her toward the sofa, their lips never parting.

Impatient but still controlled, he managed to pull her gown away swiftly after he loosened her laces.

With her dress on the floor, Sebastian pulled away to look at her.

Really looked at her. His breath hitched, and his face was a blend of pain and pleasure.

She was not just desire. She was not just temptation.

She was everything he was not supposed to want—and the only thing he truly did.

Mine, he thought, even though he knew better.

And still, he reached for her again. At the same time, Amelia reached out for him, fumbling with his waistcoat, desperate to see him the way he was seeing her.

When she had successfully taken off his coat and shirt, she pressed her palms over the taut muscles of his chest. The contact made him shiver and lose his control so that he captured her lips once more.

While they kissed, they stripped the rest of their garments until they were completely naked. Skin to warm skin.

“You are so beautiful, Amelia,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

Sebastian gently lowered her onto the chaise lounge, and as her back touched the cushions, memories of their last shared night rushed over her in heated waves. His mouth found her skin again. Every brush of his lips pulled a new sound from her throat, every caress leaving her trembling.

When his mouth closed over her breast, sucking and laving the peak until it hardened, she cried out his name.

“Sebastian,” she gasped, her fingers threading into his hair to hold him there. “I need you. Please.”

She did not know what she was begging for—only that she wanted more . Despite all her imagined stories and heated translations, nothing had prepared her for the reality of him . The Duke of Firaine was her first everything.

“Are you certain?” he asked, with desire thickening his voice.

“Yes. I am,” she breathed, even as her heart pounded, making her limbs weak. “I am ready.”

He groaned at that, as he gripped her hips and eased himself between her legs.

Amelia held her breath, not knowing what to expect from then on.

She felt him nudge her entrance, descending slowly and stretching her slowly until he was completely seated.

She clung to him as pleasure and pain overwhelmed her.

“Are you all right?” he whispered against her cheek, sweat-slicked and shaking with the effort to hold still.

Amelia nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as sensation began to shift. Then, slowly, he began to move.

Each thrust was deep and measured, pulling gasps from her lips. Her body adjusted to his length, learned his rhythm—then responded in kind. She met him, thrust for thrust, the pain giving way to waves of heat. Her breath came in soft moans, her nails biting into his back.

Then, his voice cut through the haze.

“Amelia. Look at me. ”

Her eyes flew open, locking onto his. What she saw there—possession, wonder, need—undid her. She wanted to tell him. Wanted to say it so badly it nearly choked her.

I love you.

But the words stayed caught behind her teeth.

Instead, she whispered, “Please do not stop.”

He drove into her harder now, his control fraying as her body clenched around him. She felt herself break, her body shuddering, overwhelmed with pleasure as her release began to build.

“Look at you,” he murmured, kissing her throat. “You take me so well. Like your body was made for me.”

Her body convulsed around him, her back arching, her eyes squeezed shut as the cry tore from her lips. He did not look away.

“ Good girl, ” he whispered, his voice hoarse with reverence and hunger. “You are so perfect like this, Amelia.”

Her hands clutched his arms, trembling, as she rode the wave of her release. He held her through it, never letting her fall.

“That’s it,” he rasped, watching her come undone beneath him.

Amelia whimpered beneath his words, her breath catching, lips parting to speak—but nothing came out except another moan when he moved inside her again, slower now, drawing out her pleasure.

“You are beautiful when you fall apart,” he said. “So bloody beautiful, Amelia.”

His own climax followed swiftly, his thrusts turning erratic until he let go, spilling into her with a strangled groan.

Then, he collapsed over her, burying his face in the curve of her neck as they both struggled to breathe.

They lay there tangled, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts still racing.

In that moment, the world ceased to exist. No expectations. No reputations. No farewells.

She blinked up at him, her lashes wet, her body still trembling. And in that moment, she wanted to tell him everything. That she was not just his in body—but in heart, in soul. That she was falling in love with him so fast she could not breathe.

Amelia closed her eyes, pressing her lips to his damp shoulder.

The words hovered just at the edge of her tongue. I love you.

But she could not say them. Not when she knew he would never say them back.