Page 65 of The Duchess Games

Cat woke to the solid warmth of Callum at her back, his breath soft on the nape of her neck. She felt sated and sore, exhausted and elated.

She felt too many things.

And she could not stay here.

The sky was pink beyond the window, the birds just starting their morning song. She could not be discovered here. A ruined reputation would make all of her plans so much harder to execute. She slipped one leg out from under the covers despite never having wanted to stay where she was more in her entire life. The other leg. One arm.

Nearly there.

She slid along the cool sheets. Her thighs ached pleasantly. A blush threatened to work up her neck at the memories of the night before.

Right. She was sneaking out.

Time to sneak.

One toe grazed the floorboards.

Callum snaked his arm around her waist and hauled her back against his hard body. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled into her disheveled hair.

She had to give her body a very stern lecture on this not being a good time to melt.

Or do any of the other things it very much wanted to do. Again. And again.

“The servants will be up soon,” she said.

“Not for awhile yet. They don’t disturb me until I ring for them.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Still.”

He moved his lips over her neck, back and forth. His hand stayed locked around her, thumb grazing under her breast. She squirmed.

He growled in her ear. “If you keep doing that you’ll not be going anywhere for a very long time.”

Promise? She nearly asked.

His hold tightened as if she’d spoken out loud. She wriggled once. She couldn’t help it.

“That does it,” he growled in her ear. She was laughing even as he slid his hand between her legs, into the heat of her, already slick with need. The laugh turned to a moan. He cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his knuckles and then urged her legs apart, his knee between hers until she was open to him. He pushed inside and she moaned again at the slow, thorough invasion. He moved, keeping a pace that made her want to weep, slow and deep all while circling her bud, until she bit his finger, drawing it into her mouth. He groaned, thrusting deeper, shifting the angle. Her blood heated and her release swelled, rippling across her thighs, crashing through her. She came with his name on her lips and he followed, panting harshly in her ear, smiling against her sweaty neck.

She turned towards him, still catching her breath. “You’re smiling.”

“Of course, I am,” he said. “I’d be an idiot not to be smiling right now.”

She traced his lips. “It suits you.”

“Smiling is dangerous business.”

She eased back against the pillow. “Is it?”

“If I so much as smile at the wrong woman at the wrong time, I might find myself betrothed by breakfast. If I smile at a gentleman then clearly I want to buy his finest horse. Or marry his sister. Or cover his gambling debts.”

“That sounds…exhausting. Is that why you’re so gruff?

“Gruff? Are you calling me bad tempered?”

She grinned. “Absolutely.”

“Minx.” His smile died. “When I first became the duke, I didn’t know smiling might be my greatest weapon.”