Instinctively, I lean across and press gentle kisses along a two-inch scar before moving on to another. His wounds are jagged. They’re not surgical cuts.
“What are you doing?” Duke asks sleepily.
I plant another series of kisses over his scalp. “Kissing you better,” I whisper.
Duke peels open his eyes and takes a deep inhale. “I appreciate the gesture,” he says on the exhale, “but that’s not possible.”
I settle back into his arms. His crystal blue eyes are bottomless pools rather than ice. “What happened?”
He kisses my nose. “Goodnight, Angel.”
Fine, he’s not going to tell me. I’ll just have to make up some heroic story to add to my fantasy. “Goodnight my sweet prince.”
A gentle laugh rumbles up through his chest. “Prince?”
“After all your good deeds tonight, I think you deserve to be elevated above a duke.”
He threads his fingers through my hair and ghosts his lips over mine. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Thank you.”
I can’t imagine what he could possibly be thanking me for, and it’s a question I don’t ponder for long as I settle back against him and we both fall asleep.
I’m not sure if it’s the low rumble of voices or the absence of Duke’s arms that drags me back to consciousness, but as I stretch out on the otherwise empty bed, the spot where he’d been sleeping is cold.
Duke turned all the lights off at some point, but there’s the telltale sign of dawn creeping through the edges of the blinds. I don’t see a clock and my purse is in the other room so I have no way of checking the time. I doubt it matters. It’s morning and he has to leave. Our time together is over.
Holding my breath, I try to listen to what’s being said next door. I recognize the rumble of Duke’s voice, but the other man could be his boss, or maybe Max, his fellow guard. From the tone of the conversation, they’re talking business. Duke’s probably already dressed in a suit while I’m still very much naked. I don’t want to be the problem he has to get rid of. I need to move.
My legs feel ridiculously weak as I climb out of bed. Duke’s shirt is still on the floor and I slip it on before heading for the bathroom. After rolling up the sleeves, I tug the shirt’s collar to my nose and breathe in the scent of citrus and cedar. I have it bad for this man and our simple trade in orgasms feels far more complicated than it should.
A groan escapes. I squirted over his damn face.
As tempting as a shower would be, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I clean myself up as best I can and creep back into the bedroom. Duke still hasn’t appeared.
I find my dress and bra easily enough, but there’s no sign of my thong. I crouch down to look under the bed, but there’s only an inch between the base and the floor. It’s not there. Where the hell could it be? Pressing my cheek to the deep pile carpet, I scan the rest of the room. It’s caught on the foot of the heavy mirror Duke moved back into a corner after I’d watched myself come undone.
My groan this time is an echo of the pleasure I’d experienced riding his beautiful cock.
“If you promised to greet me like that every time I came into a room, Angel, I’d sneak you back to Chicago with me.”
I rise up onto all fours and look over my shoulder. My insides twist at the sight of Duke in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Boxer shorts that are tenting. He’s grinning at me, not the least bit self-conscious, but then, I am the one with my ass in the air.
“I was just getting dressed,” I explain.
Duke uses a foot to tap the inside of my calves to open my legs. “I prefer you in my shirt.”
He kneels down into the space he’s made and slides his hand along the length of my pussy. “Duke,” I gasp. “I need to go.”
His hand stills. “Is there somewhere you need to be today?”
It’s Saturday and I’m not working. Nor am I in any rush to go home and face Cameron. “No, but–” I cry out as he pinches my clit hard enough to make my hips buck.
“Then you don’t need to go anywhere,” Duke corrects me. “But you do need to come.”
I close my eyes and lose myself to the touch of hisfingertips. He knows exactly how much pressure I need, knows when I want more and when I need less, just from the sounds I make. I’m aching and swollen, but my body demands I take everything Duke’s willing to give. In no time at all, I’m huffing out a breath as the first flutters travel up through my core.
“That’s it, my sweet fucking angel,” he encourages, his voice rasping. “You know what to do. Let me hear you come. Let me hear those sweet noises you make.”
Coiling heat builds in my center as his fingers continue to play me like an instrument. My body vibrates with the need for release, but then I remember the growing need I’d spied straining against Duke’s boxers.
