Duke of Manhattan

It was nice to feel as if I had someone on my side. I’d missed the feeling of having a teammate, someone in my corner, since my divorce. “I’m glad I passed their inspection. So far, at least.”


His hand settled at my waist and goosebumps pulsed out from under his hand and across my body. It was as if we were a normal couple, discussing the day, casually intimate with each other. It reminded me of life with Marcus—a time when I thought I’d found the love of my life. I ignored the sting in my chest and turned to face Ryder so I was mirroring him.

“I don’t have to go shooting tomorrow. God knows, I could do without a day with Frederick. I don’t see why you should be subjected to Victoria.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but I could handle Victoria. Despite a lukewarm response from Ryder and me, Darcy had seemed excited about the spa and so I’d agreed to go. Which meant Ryder had no excuse not to go shooting with Frederick.

He circled his thumb over the silk of my nightgown. “This is nice. Being here, with you,” he said, as if he hadn’t been expecting to enjoy my company.

I smoothed my hand up his arm. It seemed like a natural thing to do, though I knew it wasn’t. This man wasn’t my husband-to-be. I might be marrying him. But it wasn’t meant to be a physical relationship.

He pulled me closer. “I know we said no sex . . .”

I ran my palm up his chest. “We really shouldn’t.” This needed to be about business. I wanted Cecily Fragrance. He wanted a wife. That was all we were doing here.

“It’s just you’re so beautiful.”

I sighed, my nipples tightening against the silk of my nightdress. I’d gotten used to not having sex since Marcus and I split. Ryder had awoken something in me, and I missed how easy it was to fuck and be fucked when I was married.

“And it was so good,” he said, as if the admission were being squeezed out of him. “Wasn’t it?” he asked, shifting his hips closer. “So, so good.”

If I could stop the voices chattering in my head for just a second, I could sink into the warmth of him, into being part of a couple again, into the hardness of his body.

I missed all that. I missed having someone who was mine.

I reached for his jaw and he bent to kiss me, his lips soft but, like all of him, in control. He led everything—me out of the car, the conversation at dinner, plans for tomorrow . . . my body.

He rolled me to my back as he pushed his tongue into my mouth and sought mine as if he were taking all my worries from me with every touch. Slowly, he created a blurred screen between me and my concerns about the next day, my embarrassment at saying the wrong thing, my pain of losing my husband.

He pulled back. “God, I like kissing you.”

I rolled my lips between my teeth, dampening down a smile. I nodded. “I like kissing you too.”

“And this?” he said, his hand sweeping down my body. “I like all this, too.”

It had been a long time since I’d felt attractive—even longer since I’d believed someone was attracted to me. I’d forgotten how much I liked that feeling.

I reached for my thighs and gathered my nightdress, collected the silk to reveal my legs. I pulled it up and off my body, arching my back, to remove it entirely.

Ryder’s eyebrows pulsed up. “Now, I like that even more.”

He kissed me again. The scrape of his shirt against my skin made me shudder.

He made his way down my body with his mouth, slow and deliberate, his hands following as though he was trying to commit every part of me to memory. He took his time to explore every angle, every ledge and dip. I held off a groan until he reached my lower belly.

“You’re going to have to be quiet,” he said, shifting farther down the bed. “These walls are thick, but they’re not going to withstand a scream.”

He dug his tongue into my slit as I grabbed the back of my legs, pulling them open wide. Why had we not done this since the last time? It felt so good, so right.

His thumb pushed into me like a plug, circling as he licked, dragging his tongue up and around and back. My body seemed to float off the bed, buoyed up by the pleasure. In seconds I was climbing toward my orgasm.

“You promise you’ll be quiet?” he asked, breaking his rhythm as he looked up to track my reaction.

“Yes.” I reached my hand to the back of his head, urging him to finish what he’d started. “Don’t stop.”

“Relax and trust me,” he said, before diving down to ease my throb.

I didn’t need to trust him. I knew only too well that he could make me come.

His thumb slipped in and out, my wetness dribbling out between the cheeks of my butt. He slid his index finger against my crack, pressing hard as if he wanted to ensure I knew it was intentional. He found a smooth, rocking rhythm, in and out with his fingers, up and down with this tongue. I floated on the steady pleasure until he slid a finger over my asshole, pressing in just the slightest bit and making me groan. My whole world was awash with sensation—his mouth, his tongue, the slight graze of his teeth every now and then. The press of his hand under my hip bone, holding me still. His thumb sliding in and out, his finger mirroring the rocking motion.

It was all too much. And he knew.

He released my hip and pressed his hand to my mouth, clamping down so I could release the cries that I’d been trying to hold inside. I gave in, pleas and curses and moans vibrating against his palm as I came, writhing against him, into him, my only thought how much I wanted to be with him. Right here. Right now.

Nothing else mattered.

Not Cecily Fragrance, not Marcus.

Not my future or my past.





Fourteen





Ryder


I was so hard I could hardly breathe. I slid my zipper down carefully, not wanting to scrape it across my erection and blow my load.

Scarlett hadn’t been quiet. Even knowing that people might hear, she hadn’t been able to hold back and I totally fucking loved it. She’d barely said a word at dinner, no doubt intimidated by the alien chatter and the jostling for dominance that had taken place. But here? In this bedroom, just her and me? She wasn’t intimidated and she certainly wasn’t quiet.

I carefully maneuvered myself to lie beside her. Her belly rose and fell in the most delicious way. I couldn’t look. Jesus. I tried to think about hunting with Frederick.

“You look angry,” she said. “What’s on your mind?” She rolled toward me and I kept my eyes on the ceiling, trying to ignore how her breasts sat high on her chest, her nipples pointing at me, daring me to squeeze them.

“You want to ask me what I’m not thinking.”

“What?” She slid her hand over my stomach and I grabbed her wrist.

“No,” I barked.

She pulled her arm back as if I’d bitten her.

“Sorry, I’m going to come if you touch me.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the mattress dip beside me. What was she doing? I couldn’t help but think about the way she moved so unselfconsciously when she was naked.

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