The Other Duke (12 page)

But Raphael was not Cyril, and she no longer took even a moment to compare the two. No, with her arms around his neck, her body nestled against him, her mouth open and tongue tangling with his, the only thing she felt when she thought of what would come next was…longing. If she was right about his increased fervor when it came to her, then tonight she would finally be claimed as his in every way physically possible.

Even if that was a fleeting gift, she wanted to own it.

Their carriage slowed and Rafe released her with a throaty groan that spoke of his desire just as much as the hard ridge of his erection that had been growing for the past fifteen minutes did.

“I am both disappointed to let you go,” he murmured, “and so very excited to be home with you.”

A footman appeared to open the door to and assist them from the vehicle, but Rafe waved the man off. Instead, he got out himself, then turned back to help her. The steadying hand he placed against her hip lingered too long for propriety and she suppressed a shiver as she took his arm.

“Upstairs,” he said, but she wasn’t certain if it was a suggestion or an order. Either way she nodded, and he led her up to their chamber without allowing anyone to even take their wraps.

Once inside, once the door had been closed and locked, he leaned back against the barrier and simply
stared
at her.

“All night I have dreamed of being alone with you,” he said softly. “And here we are, and I almost don’t know where to start.”

She bit her lip. She had never been bold. It wasn’t exactly in her nature, and with Cyril she had lived to discourage, not take control. But here with this man in this moment, she wasn’t afraid. She was just…
ready
. Ready for him. Ready for what they had begun on their wedding night and had been cut off. Ready for it all.

“Why don’t we start with my wrap?” she suggested softly as she unbuttoned her heavy shrug and tossed it aside without a care for where it fell. “And your top coat.”

He nodded and did the same as she had done. She began to work on her gown, which happily fastened in the front, and he caught his breath as he watched her undress for him. Her fingers faltered from time to time, partly because she so rarely undressed herself and partly because she could hardly breathe and her fingers felt thick and useless when he watched her so closely. Finally she managed it and let her dress fall away, kicking it aside.

“Are you going to take something else off or will I be the only one naked yet again?” she asked.

He smiled as he made short work of his tailored formal jacket and then nearly tore his cravat in half as he untied it.

“Had I allowed myself to be naked with you since our wedding night,” he explained while he unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it over his head, “then I would not have been able to exert the control I have with you in the past few days.”

“And why did you?” she asked, staring unabashedly at his shirtless form. Oh, she had seen him like this on their wedding night, of course, but she had been so anxious and afraid, she hadn’t exactly enjoyed what she saw.

Now she took her time drinking him in. He was perfectly formed. Lean muscle roped his arms, his chest, his stomach, his tapered hips. And dear God, but he was tanned, proving he was very wicked when he wasn’t in London and could roam about the countryside in far less than appropriate attire.

“Why did I what?” he asked, dragging her back to the moment.

She blinked. She had almost forgotten her question, but it came back soon enough. “Why—why did you exert such control?”

He tilted his head. “Because you needed it,” he said. “Because you had to believe that I am not the brute my cousin was.”

She stared at him a moment, then slowly approached him. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek with the back of it. “I do not believe that, Rafe. I know it.”

His face softened slightly before he bent lower and kissed her deeply. Any hesitation she might have felt, any fear, melted away with that kiss and she reached up to clutch his bare upper arms as he guided her to his bed.

He laid her across his pillows, then stepped away to shed boots and trousers. She turned her face, still uncomfortable with the sight of his engorged member. She was curious about it, yes, but looking at it remained difficult.

If he noticed her hesitation, he made no comment on it, but joined her on the bed where he returned to those passionate kisses. She wrapped her arms around him, relaxing into the pleasure he created with his mouth, his hands as he guided them to her chemise and lowered the straps. When he could go no further, he drew back and freed himself from her arms to undress her fully.

Once he had gotten the undergarment off, he balled it up without breaking eye contact and tossed it to join the other tangled remnants of their very proper night at the ball.

She thought he would move back to kiss her, but instead he looked up and down her body slowly, taking in the sight of her with dark, appreciative eyes.

“Only pleasure,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “Always pleasure,” she corrected him.

He cupped her breast and began to stroke his thumb over the distended nipple, rubbing a gentle, hypnotic rhythm against the sensitive peak. She let out a shuddering sigh at the attention and let her eyes slide shut so she could savor just the feel of his touch.

She didn’t open them, even as he replaced his hand with his hot mouth. He sucked her nipple, swirling his tongue around and around, lapping at her like a man starved for her flesh.

She couldn’t stop the moans now. She didn’t try to do so, but let them loose as intensive pleasure mobbed her, building the familiar wall of the orgasm that would soon shatter within her.

His hand moved lower, brushing seductively over her stomach, edging over to cup her hip as he had earlier in the night, although this time it was bare skin on skin and oh, so seductive.

He let that hand massage across her thigh, and finally he cupped her sex just as he had the first morning they spent together, when he had promised her pleasure as part of their bargain. He had given her that in spades since, but now she wanted
more
.

Her eyes came open finally and she watched as he teased her with his fingers, opening her, readying her. And all the while, he sucked from one nipple to the other, playing her like an instrument that was part of a magnificent orchestra of pleasure.

He drew away from her breasts and looked up at her with a wicked smile. His fingers continued to play as he moved up to slide his nose against hers. But he didn’t kiss her. Not even when she lifted her chin in silent demand.

“Oh no,” he whispered, ducking her plea. “My eyes won’t be closed when I am finally inside of you, Sera.”

He urged her legs wider with those insistent hands and she was too helpless with desire now to resist. Then his hand was gone and he rolled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, even as he remained true to his word and kept his stare firmly locked with hers.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She tried to catch her breath, tangled between fear and longing, the past and a future she had never imagined. A future she could only take if she let him fully consummate their union.

“Yes,” she said on a shaky breath.

He positioned the hard thrust of his sex against hers, and she held her breath as he slowly glided inside of her. Unlike the first time he had done so, she wasn’t caught up in fear and she shivered at the feeling of being stretched by him, filled by him, taken by him in this primal way.

To her surprise, there was intense pleasure in the slide of their bodies. In the slick welcome he had created and the hard invasion he had resisted until now.

When he was fully inside of her, he stopped moving and looked down at her.

“Breathe, Sera,” he said with an encouraging smile. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

She dragged a gulp of air into her lungs and found herself relaxing. It was in that moment that he thrust for the first time.

She had been ready for that thrust, even before they married. She was ready for discomfort. She was ready for a stomach-clenching wish that it would end.

But this was
not
that. When he slid through her, almost all the way out and then back in again, her body didn’t revolt. It didn’t clench. It didn’t respond with pain or discomfort.

Instead, the fire he had built previously with his fingers, his mouth, his seduction, suddenly flamed higher. The pleasure she had come to expect from this man was in this act as well. In every swivel of his hips, in every heavy thrust of his body.

She arched to meet him on the next strokes, clenching around him in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. The dam of pleasure strained with his expert claiming, with the way he watched her like she was the most fascinating creature who had ever existed.

All of it came together, and when he swiveled his hips another time, hitting the perfect spot in her body, the orgasm crested over her. And just like with his hands or his mouth, he didn’t offer her hesitation as a respite. He thrust through the crisis, dragging her higher with the rapid pistoning of his hips until the quakes of her release weakened and she could barely moan his name.

“Great God, Serafina,” he panted, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

Suddenly the movements of his body grew erratic and he let out a garbled moan before she felt the explosive burst of his seed deep inside of her. Then he collapsed over her and held her close as their heartbeats pounded in time.

Serafina sighed as Rafe rolled away, separating their bodies, then gathering her to his side. She could hardly believe how light she felt. How warm and satiated.

She had never thought lovemaking could be like that. But Rafe had given her that gift. And so much more.

“My God,” he said as he smoothed her sweaty hair away from her face. “You are gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.”

She stiffened at the compliment. If she thought she hadn’t made her displeasure clear, his chuckle proved her wrong.

“The look on your face,” he said, stroking a thumb across her cheek. “Why do you hate it so much?”

She shook her head. “Hate what?”

He laughed again. “Don’t be coy now, I think we’ve gone too far for that. I have seen you make a face each and every time someone has complimented your loveliness. Yes, sometimes you hide your annoyance better than others, but it is always there.” He leaned closer and tapped the tip of her nose playfully. “Some ladies actually
like
being complimented for their looks. So it fascinates me that you despise it. Would you like to tell me why?”

Serafina rolled to her back, dragging the sheets up around her chest as she pondered what he had said. She had never confessed to anyone her true thoughts on her looks. She had never even considered it. But here Rafe was, asking her the truth without any kind of ulterior motive behind the question. To say what was in her heart was an almost undeniable draw.

She sighed. “What I’m going to tell you may make you think I’m arrogant. You may even like me less when I’m finished.”

“Your warning intrigues me further, but I will tell you that I do not think I could dislike you,” he said, the laughter gone from his voice and from his face as he watched her carefully.

“I know I am beautiful,” she said, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at the conceited admission. “Empirically it is true—I see it in the mirror each day. And I have also heard it almost every day of my life.”

He leaned away a fraction. “So you are terribly bored of it,” he teased gently.

“I’m being serious, Rafe. It isn’t that I’m bored of hearing the world wax poetic on my physical attributes. It is that…that…”

She trailed off, stopped by the fact that she was about to reveal yet another piece of her soul to a man who already knew so much about her. A man she was supposed to be distancing herself from, not inviting further into her confidence.

“Tell me,” he urged, his face serious as his hands moved to cover her clenched ones in her lap.

She let out a long breath. “When I was five, my mother told me I was beautiful. I suppose she must have told me that before, but it is the first time I recall her saying it. I was pleased, of course. I knew being pretty had value. But she followed that with more and more compliments on my physical appearance. As I grew older, she was almost obsessed with my gowns, my hair. I was her doll to dress up and display, to show off to her friends and then gossip with me afterward about how much uglier their girls were.”

Rafe nodded. “I can see how her excessiveness would make you uncomfortable.”

She pursed her lips at the memories that mobbed her. “And it was worse. She wasn’t only obsessed with my being a pretty girl, but that I would be a pretty woman. She harped on how curvaceous I should be. Was I too thin? Was I too fat? How I should never wear yellow because it ‘didn’t suit me.’”

“How old were you?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief, tinged with horror.

“It was before I was betrothed to Cyril, so…six, perhaps?”

“And what of after? Surely she must have relaxed when she believed your future secure.”

“On the contrary, she grew even more determined. She was thrilled I had landed a future duke, of course, but she feared I would lose his interest if I didn’t use my beauty. That became her only mantra.
Use your beauty, Serafina. Use your beauty
. I had to sneak books because she didn’t want me reading or studying.”

“Why?” Rafe asked.

“I didn’t need to be intelligent or witty. I needed to be pretty.”

“That explains why you were surprised when I said Annabelle had reviewed the betrothal contract,” Rafe mused.

She nodded. “If my mother had thought I could decipher a document like that, she probably would have locked me in my chamber as punishment. I had to sneak my learning, my study, and keep my thoughts to myself.”

“How terrible,” he said with a shake of his head.

“She died when I was eleven. She drew me in to her bedroom at the end and asked my father that we be left alone. I looked at her, wasted away by a long, terrible illness. She was in obvious pain. And I loved her, I did, so I hoped she would say something meaningful to me. I wanted her to tell me she loved me or was proud of me. At the very least I hoped for some advice in surviving life alone with my father.”

“She didn’t tell you any of those things?”

She shook her head. “No. Instead, she told me once more to use my beauty. Those were her last words to me.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, as if letting those facts sink in. “I have met your father, so I cannot believe he would be any better.”

She bit back a bark of humorless laughter. “He didn’t have as much beauty advice, but he certainly only ever spoke of my looks when he listed my attributes. When I was fifteen, he had me end a friendship with a girl because she became too fat. It was always about looks. And my looks are why Cyril was so awful.”

“What do you mean?”

She tilted her head. “Surely you must know that my beauty was part of why Cyril wanted me. To have me on his arm, a trophy, was vastly important to him, nearly as much as the damned money in my dowry. Had I been a little uglier, perhaps he would not have—”

She broke off. Her memories of Cyril’s abuse had begun to fade a little with Rafe’s gentle touch, but when she spoke of it so plainly, her stomach still turned.

“A man like Cyril will victimize regardless,” Rafe said softly.

She shrugged. “Either way, you must understand how difficult it is only to be judged by something that has nothing to do with my character, not even something truly in my control. My looks will fade with time. I have often looked forward to that day, actually. But what will I have left? No one has ever thought of or been interested in my intelligence or my kindness or my wit or anything else except how nice I look in a dress.”

She looked away toward the fire, absently watching the flames dance. “I just wish someone saw more.”

He placed a hand beneath her chin and turned her face toward his again.

“I see more,” he whispered.

Her eyes went wide not just at his words but at the firm, certain way he said them. She stared at the earnest honesty on his handsome face.

“How can you when you hardly know me?” she asked, more to herself than to him.

He traced his thumb over her lower lip. “I’m beginning to know you, Sera.”

She swallowed hard, because she feared that claim might be all too true. It
felt
like Rafe knew her in a deeper, more meaningful way. Despite the fact they had been acquainted less than a fortnight, despite her hesitations and barriers, she couldn’t deny that he truly seemed to
see
her.

But luckily she didn’t have to respond to his claim, nor even think about it overly much. He didn’t allow a response as he leaned in to gently kiss her.

She melted at the brush of his lips, lifting her shaking hands to drape them over his shoulders and sink into this heavenly caress. She couldn’t help the shuddering moan that entered his mouth as he lowered her back on the pillows, his heavy, hard body moving over hers, pinning her to the bed, awakening the fire in her body that she had never thought would be possible.

“So soon?” she murmured as he began to kiss her neck.

He lifted his head to grin at her. “Are you protesting?”

“No, I just didn’t think that people…
did
this more than once a night,” she said, cheeks flaming at the subject.

He tugged the protective sheet down to reveal her bare breasts and gently sucked on a nipple until her back arched.

“As long as
people
are enjoying themselves, they can do it as often as they’d like,” he said as he moved to tease her opposite breast. “Are you enjoying yourself, Serafina?”

She could hardly breath as he cupped her ribs and guided the sheet lower, lower, revealing more and more of her body. Everything tingled. Between her legs she
throbbed
.

“Sera?” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said on a broken breath. “I never thought I would crave your body inside of mine. I never thought that this could be anything but a duty I endured with dignity. But you have set me on fire, Rafe. And only one thing can put that fire out.”

His pupils dilated, and she could see the surprise on his face at that admission.

“What will put the fire out, Sera?” he whispered.

She pursed her lips. He wanted her to say the words?

“Tell me,” he said, his tone low and even and so seductive that she felt like he was touching her intimately.

She swallowed. “You,” she whispered. “You are the only one who can set me free from the very prison you create with your touch. I need you, Rafe. I need this.”

She wasn’t certain if he would torture her more at that admission, if he would use the power she gave to him. But he didn’t. His mouth crushed down on hers, hot and hungry and more out of control than he had ever been when he touched her.

His ardor should have frightened her, for it contained a wildness she normally wouldn’t trust. But she wasn’t afraid at all. She was excited by his passion, by the way he tore the sheet fully away and pushed her legs wide with his knees. His member was hard and ready as he positioned himself at her entrance, and he was panting as he slid forward, gliding deep inside her waiting body with a long, loud moan.

“You think I put out your fire,” he growled, his face too close, his breath too hot, his body too perfectly fitted into hers. “You stoke mine. And until I’m inside of you, I burn, Sera.”

She dragged his mouth down and kissed him with everything in her. All the things she couldn’t say, all the feelings she couldn’t express, all the need that shattered her. He began to thrust hard into her, a rhythm unlike any other he had shared with her. Despite his roughness, her body throbbed with pleasure, arched to meet him, fluttered around his invading member with just the hint of the orgasm to come.

He broke their kiss with a grunt and slid his hands down her body, cupping first her hips and then her naked backside. He rocked her against him in a grinding, relentless rhythm, and suddenly a thousand starbursts exploded before her eyes. She screamed out his name as wave upon wave of powerful pleasure rolled over and through her.

It was as if her pleasure was his permission, and he cried out in unison, pouring his seed deep into her quaking body. Then he pulled her even closer as he buried his head into her shoulder, his arms shaking. And he held her that way until they had both fallen asleep.