“Sophia,” Roxboro murmured. “The next time, I’ll use my mouth here.” He tweaked the small bud. “And you’ll scream the house down.”
The very idea of Roxboro’s dark head nestled between her thighs, his mouth on her quim—lady parts—sent another trickle of wetness. She squeezed her legs together, trapping his hand.
“Alexander,” Sophia choked as her eyes flew open to see him watching her, stormy eyes focused completely on her and filled with…every thought in her head shattered.
Oh. Goodness.
Sophia broke apart, her hand covering his as pleasure,dear lord, but this was magnificent,flowed over her with sharp, brilliant intensity. The air seemed too thick to breathe, or possibly her lungs weren’t working. This was so much more than Ann had described to her. More—
Roxboro let out a soft moan into her hair. “So wild, my terrible duchess.”
Clever fingers pulled forth from Sophia another wave of pleasure, stroking a spot inside her that had Sophia shouting his name as Roxboro milked every bit of bliss from her body. When his fingers withdrew with one final caress, the fluttering pulse of her release beginning to ease, Roxboro pulled her close to the warmth of his body. His lips formed words along her neck, but Sophia couldn’t make outthe words. Her heart skipped once or twice before beating once more in a steady rhythm.
Roxboro’s hand possessively covered her mound.
Sated but confused, Sophia sat up, pushing away from the smell of bergamot and duke.
She attempted to regain her composure, difficult with Roxboro twisting his fingers through the hair covering her…lady parts. Hiscockpulsed in his lap, just beneath the sheet, poking at Sophia with insistence.
“I’m ill, Sophia. Not dead.”
She wiggled until her bottom was once more on the bed, not Roxboro. Drew her skirts down her legs. Her skin rippled with tiny pulses. This was supposed to be a marriage in name only. One forged by being compromised.
Except he didn’t compromise me.
Guilt made her legs unsteady as she came to her feet.
“I should—
Roxboro’s fingers circled her wrist, surprisingly strong for a man who’d spent the last fortnight bedridden. “You should not.” There was a somberness to him now, a sincerity Sophia wasn’t sure what to do with.
“You’ve been ill and… well, any port in a storm, isn’t that right, Your Grace.”
Sophia wasn’t sure what made her say those words, ones that reduced the last few intimate, beautiful moments to nothing but a physical release. When that wasn’t what her heart thought at all.
“Alexander,” he hissed back at her. “I want you to use my bloody name.”
“Why? You rarely use mine.”
“Untrue. Besides, I’m nearly out of names.” He shut his eyes for a moment. “Sophie,” his voice was soft, as he opened them once more, the shortened form of her name an endearment. “Come here.”
Sophia shook her head and took another step towards the door. Straightened her shoulders. Buried her heart once more for protection. “Boredom, Your Grace. I understand and do not think less of you for it.” Sophia sounded so calm. Rational. Mature.
Not the lovesick creature I suspect I’m becoming.
“Is that supposed to reassure me somehow?” he growled. “You truly believe—Sophia, if I wanted another woman in my bed, I could have one.Anyone.”
“How lovely for you.”
“Very well.” Roxboro sounded so…angry. “I agree with your low opinion of me.” He closed his eyes. “You wish to be like the other women I take to my bed? Then you are dismissed,” he said with an elegant wave of his fingers. “Your services are no longer required.”
Sophia winced, falling back as if he’d slapped her. “Don’t toy with me, Your Grace.” Her voice was firm with no sign of the regret starting to seep into her skin.
I’ve ruined it. I speak before clearly thinking matters through.
“Toying? Go away.”
Opening her mouth, Sophia considered whether now was the time to admit what she’d done. Offer to—have her father approach Parliament on Roxboro’s behalf. Admit to the fraud she’d committed. But those words wouldn’t come.
