Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,68
and realized it wasn’t a lie. “This is . . . amazing.”
It was. Shocks of heat radiated through her, growing bigger, stronger, hotter until suddenly they arced inside her, making her cry out from the intensity of her ecstasy.
As if that set off his own release, he drove into her with a hoarse cry of his own, then spilled himself inside her. As he lay atop her, his body still joined to hers and his head cradled in the bend of her neck, a contentment stole over her that was beyond anything she’d ever felt. She belonged here, with him. He might not realize it yet, but she did.
That was enough. For now.
Thorn lay beside her, his heart no longer thundering and his body replete with satisfaction. Yet he wanted her again. And again and again and again.
It made no sense. Nine years ago, he would have been panicked, knowing that a marriage was now in his future. Hell, he’d been panicked back then after they’d been caught kissing. Instead, he felt nothing but contentment. And a faint echo of his earlier desire.
If he made love to her again, he could do it with less urgency and more care. But that was a mad train of thought. It implied that he . . . needed her. And he didn’t need anyone.
He looked down to where her naked body was curled against him, and his blood roused at just the sight. God, he was in trouble now. He reached over to grab the other side of the coverlet and, for the sake of his sanity, pulled it over the parts of her he found tempting. Although honestly, if he followed that logic, he’d be covering her from head to toe.
Her response was to lay her head on his bare shoulder. “That was not what I expected.”
He didn’t even have to ask what “that” referred to. “Worse? Or better?”
“Oh, better, most definitely.”
She toyed with the hair on his chest, and he felt a stirring in his cock. He willed it to go away, even though that had never worked before, especially around her. But he had to try.
“What were you expecting?” he asked, hoping for something to get his mind off the fact that he wanted her again.
“You know—what they always tell young ladies.” She fixed her gaze somewhere beyond him. “That once you’re married, you’ll have painful relations with your husband, but it’s all right because he’ll gift you with jewels and furs and such.”
Good God. That certainly dampened his arousal. “In other words, they tell young ladies they’ll be whores after they marry.”
Her gaze shot to him. “That’s what I always said! Why do you think I wasn’t keen to marry? I mean, how is a society marriage any different than being a man’s mistress?”
“For one thing, your children won’t be born bastards.” He smoothed out a lock of her disordered and highly erotic hair. “If ‘painful relations’ was what you expected, why did you let me . . . I mean . . .”
“Because I wasn’t sure what to believe. And when I’m not sure, I always want to experience things for myself.”
“Like an experiment.”
“Exactly!” She beamed at him.
So that was what it was like to have her beaming at him. No wonder Juncker had been so pleased with himself. Just seeing her like that made Thorn’s chest swell.
He chuckled. “I much prefer that sort of experiment to the kind you’ve been doing.”
“It’s certainly more . . . enjoyable in some respects.” Her expression turned pensive. “And speaking of those experiments, do you think Grey will be terribly upset to learn the truth about his father’s death?”
“I doubt it. He has suspected it for some time. Besides, he never knew his father, and given what he’d heard from others about the man, the late duke wasn’t a very nice person.”
“That’s rather sad. Forgive me for asking, but if he never knew his father, why does he care if the man was murdered?”
Thorn debated how much to tell her about Grey’s father, but at this point she might as well know the whole of it. At the very least, she’d be testifying at the trial of the murderer, assuming they could learn who the man was. Besides, she might have some insight into the other deaths, too. She was, after all, a clever woman.
“Grey is afraid that the person who poisoned his father may also have murdered my and Gwyn’s father and our stepfather, not to mention Sheridan’s late uncle.”