Page 35 of The Duke of My Desire

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

She’d loved her parents very much and missed them every day. Her mother was small but strong-willed, supportive and loving, always humming an off-key tune. Her father was more reserved, less emotive, but wise and kind-hearted with warm mahogany eyes.

“Speaking of wants,” Gregory said, his gaze on hers, “what is it that you want, Justina?”

The question took her by surprise, and instinct urged her to sidestep it, and give him a teasing half-answer instead.

But another part of her wanted to open up to this man, to share her innermost desires, her dreams for the future.

“I want to be happy,” she answered simply, though such a want was anything but simple.

“And what does happiness look like?”

She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “I do not know. When Phillip was alive, I hoped for children, and I still do. Whether or not I will have them remains to be seen.”

The first year of their marriage, she and Phillip had tried for a baby with no luck, and then he became ill and all attempts ended as he grew weaker and sicker with the disease.

She hoped the issue with conceiving did not lie with her, but she wouldn’t know unless she married again and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready for that.

“Do you want to marry again?” Gregory asked, as if reading her mind.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I honestly don’t know what I want from the future. Right now, however...” She slid closer to him and looped her arms around his neck. “I want a kiss from a handsome duke.”

She was finished with talk of marriage and future desires. She wanted to live in the moment, this moment, and enjoy her time with this man she was growing to care for more than she’d ever thought possible.

Shoving all thought aside, she kissed him hard, threading her fingers through his hair as she molded her lips to his. His arms clamped around her and he swept his tongue inside her mouth, licking deep.

Justina’s blood heated with every touch of his hands on her body, though she hated that she was clothed, hated even more that he was clothed, their skin cruelly separated by layers of silk and linen.

“Take off your coat,” she demanded, her fingers already reaching for his lapels. She couldn’t have him naked, but she would happily settle for a state of undress.

Gregory hastily removed his coat and cravat then tossed them across the carriage before tugging her into his lap.

She straddled him, yanking her skirts out of the way, and hissed when her core brushed the hard ridge of his cock through his trousers. She rocked against him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tormented herself with the rough slide of linen against her most sensitive flesh.

“God, Justina, have a care,” Gregory panted, his voice rough as gravel.

Oh, how she loved the way he said her name when he wanted her.

“What is it?” she teased, grinding against him. “Does this not feel good?”

He grunted. “It feels too good. You’re driving me mad.”

“Shall I stop then?” She nipped his earlobe with her teeth then trailed a line of kisses down the column of his throat, inhaling the scent of spicy soap and warm, male skin.

She licked his collarbone, satisfying the craving to taste him, all the while grinding against him.

“God, don’t stop, Justina,” Gregory pleaded. “Never stop.”

Justina kissed him, reaching between their bodies to undo the buttons of his falls. His cock sprang free and she took him in hand, giving his length a long, sure stroke.

He let out a strangled groan against her lips as he tugged at the bodice of her gown, freeing her breasts. He cupped her as she stroked him, palming her, his thumbs grazing her aching nipples until she could scarcely breathe.

“I need you,” he rasped. “I need to be inside you. Give me your cunny, Justina.”