The Duke Goes Down (The Duke Hunt #1) by Sophie Jordan

Mrs. Berrycloth passed him and proceeded down the center aisle, moving for the doors.

“What are you doing?” he growled for Imogen’s ears alone.

She looked up at him with mock innocence. “You asked the lady to step out for a walk.”

“That was a while ago. Before us.”

She blinked at his plain language, and then slowly shook her head.

He pressed, “Is that what you want then? For me to spend my time with other women?” His gaze scoured her face, needing to hear her deny this.

She averted her gaze, turning her face away.

He glared at her furiously, whispering, “You know we have something here, Imogen. Do not run from this. Do not push me away.”

She turned her gaze back on him, her eyes bright with an emotion that looked akin to pain. “What is the point? This cannot be.”

“Says who? No. I do not accept that. And I don’t believe you do either.” With a disgusted shake of his head, he started down the aisle after Mrs. Berrycloth, only to stop at the sound of Imogen’s harsh whisper.

“Do not be a fool, Perry. You know as well as I do that we cannot have anything lasting. And I’m not the manner of female to be any man’s mistress.”

He opened his mouth, but had no chance to speak before she was striding past with a resolute look on her face, leaving him standing in the aisle of the church, her footsteps a soft fading tread on the runner.





Chapter Twenty-Two




Imogen turned down her bedding, longing for a night’s sleep. There had been little slumber the night before and her brain needed a solid rest so that she could return to thinking properly.

She had stripped her bed and put fresh sheets on before they left for church this morning. Fortunately for her, she often did such household chores herself, so the act didn’t raise any eyebrows. She didn’t need Mrs. Garry handling her sheets after last night and seeing the evidence of her tryst.

The scrabbling at her window was familiar at this point, but still unexpected. Crossing her arms, she turned and watched warily as Perry pushed himself inside her bedchamber.

“I really need a lock on that window,” she declared, uncrossing her arms over her chest.

He straightened, brushing at his clothing. “Then I would simply have to come through the front door and that wouldn’t be very discreet. I’m happy to do that, of course, if you prefer.”

She did not prefer that. She needn’t have members of her household getting their hopes up that she was entertaining Mr. Butler’s suit. And hopes would rise. They would be excited. Papa liked him very much, and Mrs. Garry had voiced her opinion more than once that Imogen should be happily married with children by now. Despite Imogen’s reassurances, the housekeeper worried what would happen to Imogen when Papa was gone. She didn’t want her left alone in the world.

“You’re unconscionable,” she accused.

“I’m unconscionable?” He pointed to himself. “You’re the one pushing me at other women.”

“You asked her to step out and walk with you.”

His gray eyes fastened on her, brighter than she remembered. “That was before.”

“Before what?” she snapped.

He shook his head and reached for her, both his hands seizing her by the arms and hauling her against him. His mouth covered hers and she didn’t even hesitate. She melted against him, opening her mouth to him and kissing him feverishly in turn, meeting every thrust of his tongue with her own.

Her heart took flight inside her chest, wild as a bird set free.

They moved in unison, backing up toward the bed with shuffling steps, their mouths fused.

Everything sped to frenzied motion. The blood rushed, a dull roar in her ears, and she thought she could hear the muffled beat of her heart through the roar.

Their lips broke just long enough for them to tear off their clothing. Garments flew on the air in a blur. They collided together again. This time gloriously naked, bare skin rubbing sinuously against bare skin.

Everything was fierce. Desperate. Violent in its intensity as they fell together on the bed.

Roaming, fondling hands. Kissing, biting lips. Panting, groaning breaths.

“You still think I want to court other women?” he growled, his hand skimming her face. Hard fingers delved into her hair, unraveling her plait as he gripped her scalp. His hot mouth crashed over hers before she could answer.

He settled atop her, finding his home between her thighs. It felt so right, so natural, to have him there, his hot cock aligned with the weeping seam of her.

His head dipped to kiss her breasts, and she moaned, arching her spine, wanting more.

His mouth closed around one nipple. Her fingers clenched on his flexing biceps. He shifted and his cock drove into her, sliding into her slick heat.

She panted, clinging, straining against him, urging him closer as she tilted her hips, taking him in deeper, needing him as one needed water, air, sustenance.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

His thrusts were relentless, the friction unbearable.

His eyes gleamed hotly down at her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them both, settling her on top of him.

“Perry!”

“Ride me, Imogen. Take me as you please.”

His eyes locked with hers as she started to move, uncertain at first and then gradually building a rhythm, gaining speed as she rode him, pushing her palms down on his chest for leverage as her hips worked over him.