The Duke Identity: Game of Dukes, Book 1 Page 15

  Glumly, she recalled how Bennett had called her a spoiled brat. A man like him had probably had his share of bedpartners, women who were more fetching, sophisticated, and feminine than she was. Ladies who didn’t run around in trousers, who knew how to properly flirt, and who didn’t, well, annoy the man they wanted to marry.

  Drat. If only she hadn’t played so many tricks on him. She winced as she reviewed her trespasses. To be fair, he had got his revenge with the exploding fountain (neat trick, that), yet she had a lot to make up for.

  Her chest squeezed. If only I could get Bennett to like me.

  Gaining approval had never been her forte. For years, she’d tried with her father and her classmates, to no avail. Even Grandpapa, for all that he loved her, refused to see her for who she was. The thought of another rejection, especially from Bennett, caused fear to trickle through her, yet she had to try to win his heart...because he had hers.

  Even if it meant exposing herself to ridicule and pain, she had to try. She was going to use a high-risk and potentially high-reward strategy: honesty. Since Bennett had seemed to like her disclosures that night in the billiards room, she reasoned she ought to stick with that tactic. To try to win his admiration by being herself.

  It’s worth a try, she thought. I can’t bungle this up any more than I already have, can I?

  She reached for the knob. When it didn’t turn, she put down the gift, pulled two hairpins out of her cloak pocket, and made short work of the lock. She pushed the door open, picked up the box, and entered the shadows. Thin ribbons of moonlight slipped through the shutters, limning the outlines of furniture.

  Before she could locate a lamp, a rustle sounded behind her. In the next heartbeat, she was yanked backward. Her back slammed into a wall of muscle, an arm circling her throat. Panic swelled.

  “Bennett, it’s me,” she choked out.

  “Tessa?”

  The pressure around her throat instantly eased. She was set on her feet. As she gulped in air, a lamp flared on a nearby table. The glow illuminated the room and Bennett’s austere expression.

  “Bloody hell,” he grated out. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine. Just need to catch my breath,” she wheezed.

  “I could have—” He bit off an oath, shoving a hand through his tousled hair. “What the devil were you thinking, sneaking into my room at this hour?”

  Before she could answer, he steered her into the single chair at the table before stalking off. He returned a minute later and shoved a glass into her hands. She took a tentative sip; the brandy’s warmth soothed her throat.

  “Well?” Bennett said.

  He stood, scowling at her, his arms crossed, and it hit her: he was wearing a dressing gown…and nothing else. The well-worn navy fabric molded to his broad shoulders and revealed the strong column of his neck. Her gaze darted downward to the vee between his lapels, her pulse tripping. His chest looked like carved granite, the slabs of defined muscle dusted with dark hair.

  The robe clung to his sinewy arms and narrow hips, ending below his knees. Below the hem, his naked calves bulged. His feet were large and bare.

  Heat that had nothing to do with the brandy pooled in her belly. Beneath her cloak, her nipples tingled against her night rail. Zounds, he was beautiful.

  “I’m waiting,” Bennett ground out.

  And, unfortunately, not in a lovey-dovey mood.

  “I thought you would be out tonight.” Popping up, she went to retrieve the gift she’d dropped in the scuffle. “And I came to leave you, um, something.”

  A wave of self-consciousness struck her. Suddenly, she felt like an awkward schoolgirl bringing an apple for the tutor for whom she’s developed a tendre.

  Bennett’s stare transferred from her to the box she was clutching. “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” she hedged.

  Too late, she realized her impulsive gift was unusual. Far too intimate. Not something a lady would give to a gentleman unless she was brazen and utterly ignorant of social niceties.

  God, what was I thinking? Heat scorched her cheeks.

  He held out his hand. His long fingers crooked in a gesture that conveyed, Hand it over.

  Her grip on the box tightened. “I’ve actually, um, changed my mind.”

  “You can’t take back my gift.”

  “Since I haven’t given it to you, I’m not taking back anything.”

  “Despite your tendency to argue over everything,”—while his expression was grave, his voice held a trace of humor—“do you think, in this one instance, you might make an exception and give me the damned gift without prolonged debate?”

  “I don’t argue over everything…” She bit her lip, feeling supremely foolish.

  He quirked a sardonic brow.

  “Oh, all right.” She shoved the box at him. “But don’t blame me if you think it’s stupid.”

  “I won’t think it’s stupid.”

  On pins and needles, she watched him set the box on the table, untie the string, and lift the lid.

  His brows drew together. “You brought me…boots?”

  Mortification tautened her insides. “I told you it was stupid. It’s just that I ruined your best pair because I was being silly and thoughtless and—”

  “How did you know my size?” Lifting one of the boots from the box, he ran a hand over the supple black calfskin.

  Despite her embarrassment, Tessa thought those boots would look smashing on Bennett. She’d asked the bootmaker to model them after those made by the famed but now defunct Hoby’s of St. James, the shop that had made footwear for the Duke of Wellington. The so-called Wellington boots were taller, closer-fitting, and less fussy than Hessians, and she thought their utilitarian elegance suited Bennett to a tee.

  “I retrieved your old boots from the rubbish heap and gave them to the bootmaker. He was able to construct this pair from those measurements.” Seeing the way he caressed the leather shaft, almost reverently, she ventured, “Do you…like them?”

  “They are very fine. Finer than any I’ve owned,” he said softly.

  Relief and pleasure hummed through her. “Oh. I’m glad.”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “As it happens, I have something for you as well.”

  She faltered into stillness, her heart jerking oddly. “You do?”

  He replaced the boot in the box and went to his jacket, which hung on a hook on the wall. Rummaging in one of the pockets, he returned with a small package.

  “It’s just a trifle,” he muttered.

  Bennett brought me a gift! Whatever it was, she would treasure it forever.

  With trembling hands, she took the parcel, removing the cheerful yellow ribbon and brown paper. Her eyes widened at the sight of the tin, which was affixed with images of hearts, flowers, and cherubs.

  “How pretty.” Opening the lid, she breathed, “You brought me lemon drops?”

  “I told you it wasn’t much.”

  “Lemon drops were my favorite as a girl. I haven’t had one in ages.” Eagerly, she selected one of the jewel-like confections and popped it into her mouth. The tart sweetness spread over her tongue like sunshine. “These are delicious. Would you like one?”

  Belatedly, she remembered to offer him the tin.

  His lips twitched. “Thank you, no. But I’m pleased you enjoy them.”

  The fact that he’d thought to bring her a present, that he’d thought of her at all, made her buffle-headed with happiness. “When did you have time to go to a confectionary?”

  “It was, er, on my way.” He shoved his spectacles up his nose. “I returned your friend’s cloak.”

  Her chest melted as sweetly as the candy on her tongue. He was such a good chap, one who was always good to his word. “Thank you for remembering Belinda. And for the sweets.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Their gazes held in the intimate, flickering light. A charge of awareness electrified her senses. Yearning ripened every cell of
her being until she felt she might burst with anticipation.

  He reached out, his knuckles grazing her cheekbone, and her breath hitched. He was looking at her intently, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. And, for once, his rich brown gaze was unguarded…and smoldering with longing.

  “Christ, Tessa,” he said hoarsely. “I want you.”

  His admission weakened her knees.

  “Then take me, Bennett,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

  * * *

  How the devil could he resist her?

  From the moment she’d awkwardly given him the new pair of boots, he’d known there was no more fighting his attraction to her. To this woman whose willful exterior hid a pure, generous, and fiercely loyal heart. A woman who wouldn’t betray the whores who were her friends, even if keeping her word was to her own detriment. Who treated a tin of lemon drops as if they were diamonds. Who looked at him as if he made the sun rise for her…just by being who he was.

  By God, he was tired of reining in his desire for her. He wasn’t going to any longer.

  Whatever the consequences, he would deal with them—because Tessa was his.

  He cupped her face in his hands, drinking in the beauty of her eyes, her petal-soft skin, her lush mouth. Then he lowered his head, and the taste of her, part tart, part honey, and all Tessa, was more thrilling than a scientific discovery. More potent than any blasting powder.

  Her hands slid into his hair, and he shuddered at their insistent grip, the eager press of her dewy lips against his. In an easy motion, he swept her into his arms, carried her to his bed, tossing his glasses on the bedside table. He lay her down, and her luxuriant sable curls spilled over the threadbare quilt, her eyes a glowing beacon in the darkness.

  Lying beside her, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you certain you want this, sweetheart?”

  “As certain as death.” She reached up, tugged at the lapels of his robe. “Do hurry, please.”

  At her unabashed eagerness, he fought a smile. “What’s the rush?”

  “I don’t want you to change your mind,” she whispered.

  His chest clenched at the insecurity in her beautiful eyes. It amazed him that she could be so strong yet fragile at the same time. And he hated himself for ever causing her to doubt herself.

  Cupping her jaw, he said firmly, “I’m not going to change my mind, sweetheart. And I’m not going to rush either. I’m going to take my time with you.”

  “So you will…make love to me?”

  “I’m going to pleasure you, sweeting, but I won’t take your virginity.”

  As a gentleman, he wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t do anything irrevocable until he knew for certain that he could do right by her. That she would want him to…after she learned that he’d been lying to her this entire time.

  Guilt knotted his chest. For a wild instant, he contemplated letting the truth spill out: his position with the police, his mission to stop the hellfire, his real name. But Tessa was a daughter of the underworld, her hatred of the police ingrained.

  No one plays a dirtier, more despicable game…I’d trust anyone before a policeman.

  And he knew he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her ejecting him from her life when he needed to stay by her side. To protect her from the imminent peril.

  “Is…is something wrong, Bennett?”

  Her tremulous words punctured his dark thoughts. When the threat is over, I’ll tell her the truth, he vowed to himself. And I’ll do whatever it takes to win her forgiveness.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said huskily.

  “Then why are you brooding?” Her eyes searched his. “If I’ve done something wrong—”

  “Tessa, you’re perfect. This,”—he claimed her mouth once more, lifting his head only when she was breathless and wearing that delightfully dazed look on her face—“is perfect. The only thing I’m thinking about is how I want to pleasure you tonight.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth took on a sudden, impish curve. “Do you need suggestions? Because I still have that deck of cards Alfred lent me…”

  He didn’t know whether to groan or laugh. “I’d forgotten about those damned cards, or I would have confiscated them.”

  “Confiscated?” she said saucily. “And what would you have done with them, Professor?”

  Hearing her use that sobriquet brought echoes of his erotic dream of her. He was as stiff as an iron pike, but he was determined to slow things down. To pleasure her and explore her sensual bounty. As if she read his thoughts, her laughter faded, her eyes growing heavy-lidded, an invitation he could not resist.

  He kissed her neck, inhaling her sweet, unique scent. When he nipped her earlobe, she made a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper, as adorable as it was arousing. Impatient with the layers that separated them, he untied her cloak, tossing it to the ground. A few moments later, her night rail followed.

  Staring down at her, he was rendered speechless. With her delicate curves and flawless skin, she was like a nubile water nymph rising from a spring. Seeing the dark, shy thatch between her slender thighs, the glint of clinging dew, he swallowed heavily.

  “Do you find me…pleasing?”

  At her hesitant words, he dragged his gaze back to her face. Incredulously, he saw that she was serious. And worried?

  “Christ, sprite,” he said with feeling, “you could not be more so.”

  He cupped her breast, the silken weight fitting perfectly in his palm. She bit her lip, and just watching her pearly teeth sink into that luscious pink ledge, the same color as her budded nipples, made his mouth pool.

  “You don’t think they’re…too small?”

  It took him a moment to understand what she was asking.

  Startled, he said, “Your breasts, you mean?”

  She averted her gaze. “The girls at school used to make fun of them. Said I ought to water them so they’d grow.” Her laugh sounded forced. “They said gentlemen preferred ladies who were more, um, endowed.”

  Anger spiked in him at the cruelty she’d experienced. At the same time, he felt a fierce surge of tenderness for the girl Tessa must have been. For the girl who lived inside the woman…the woman who he was finally beginning to understand.

  “The silly chits don’t know what they’re talking about.” He curled a finger beneath her chin, made her look at him. “You are perfection.”

  “Truly?”

  The wonder in her eyes made his chest ache. And his erection throb. In answer, he grazed her right nipple with his thumb and heard the sharp hitch of her breath.

  “See how responsive you are, sweeting? How your nipples bud and blossom at my touch? There’s nothing prettier than that,” he said thickly. “Nothing more arousing to a man than knowing a lady likes what he’s doing.”

  Her lashes swept up against her brows, myriad emotions darting through her eyes.

  Then she dazzled him with a smile. “In that case, you ought to know that I like what you’re doing very much.”

  “Brazen minx.”

  Lips curved, he kissed her, marveling at how everything felt different with her, different and new. Being with her in the moonlight beat back the shadows of his past. She was unlike the ladies he’d known and the women he’d bedded in the navvy camps. He’d never been with a female who blended passion with humor, innocence with the instincts of a siren, playfulness with devastating honesty.

  She moaned when he rolled the needy tip of her breast between finger and thumb. Tearing his mouth from hers, he kissed a path down the slope of her collarbones, fragile as a bird’s wings. Lust pounded in his veins as he continued on to her breasts, the petite, firm curves shivering beneath his tongue. When he closed his lips around one perfect, pink peak, her spine arched off the bed.

  “Blood and thunder,” she gasped.

  He suckled her harder, going from breast to breast. He flicked the taut tips, then laved them with his tongue, loving her breathy moans. He reached between her legs, and
the extent of her arousal whipped through him like a storm.

  “You’re drenched.” Reverently, he slid his finger up her dew-soaked slit.

  “I can’t help it.” Her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth again even as she wriggled deliciously against his stroking finger. “It just happens whenever I’m with you.”

  God, her honesty. It made him feel taller than a mountain.

  And randier than a green lad with his first wench.

  “You’re as juicy as a peach, and I’d wager you taste even sweeter,” he rasped.

  He spread her thighs wide and prepared to feast.

  17

  Tessa considered herself well-versed when it came to sexual matters, at least in a theoretical sense. In fact, the Queen of Hearts in her deck of cards depicted a man performing this particular act on a lady sitting atop a throne, her hands holding up her skirts. When Tessa had first seen the image, she’d thought it outlandish: what man or woman would wish to engage in such a perversion? Yet, as always, her first-hand experience with Bennett made her realize how little she understood.

  Because the act might be outrageous, but it was also…sublime.

  Her embarrassment at having Bennett’s mouth at her intimate juncture was no match for the incendiary pleasure of his kiss. Her inhibitions melted in the searing bliss. As he licked into her secret cove, flames flared in her lower belly.

  “Just as I thought,” he muttered. “Sweeter than a peach.”

  His words, the feel of them against her damp folds made her shiver helplessly. Then he was licking her sex again, the bold swipes streaking fire down her legs. His tongue edged higher, finding the hidden peak of sensation, and the fire raged out of control.

  “Come for me,” he urged thickly. “Give me your juice.”

  His tongue flickered like a flame. Hot, teasing. She squirmed as it stoked her desire higher and higher. Suddenly, he drew on her with fierce suction, and she cried out his name as ecstasy blazed through her.

  Before the tremors faded, his mouth was on hers. Tasting herself in his kiss sent a shiver of shock through her. He licked her mouth as thoroughly, as masterfully, as he had her pussy, and, despite her recent climax, arousal rekindled in her.