Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“ A long night,” Rosaline sighed, stepping onto the cobblestones, feeling her heels click against them with the rhythmic pulse of her unease. “I believe I shall retire.”
Adam, his gaze lingering on her face with something unreadable, nodded stiffly.
“Goodnight, Rosaline.” His voice was curt, almost dismissive, as if the conversation had already ended in his mind.
She felt her chest tighten, the familiar pang of hurt pricking at her insides.
Coldness again. Why does he always seem to withdraw?
The question echoed in her mind as she ascended the grand staircase, her steps slow and deliberate, her fingers brushing against the banister for support.
This constant game of push and pull was exhausting.
“No. Leave me alone.”
The faint sound of Adam’s voice from his adjoining room caught her attention.
She paused in her preparations for bed, holding as still as possible to hear better. The tone wasn’t clear, but there was an unmistakable groan of pain.
He ’ s in pain?
She froze, her heart skipping a beat.
Hesitantly, she moved toward his room, her hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob.
Should I…? No, it ’ s none of my business.
But the groan echoed through the hallway again, more pronounced this time, and it was enough to push her forward.
A surge of concern overtook her, and she couldn’t quell it. She wasn’t some callous stranger. He was her husband, whether he acknowledged it or not, and though he might withdraw, she could never turn away from him in need.
Driven by something deeper than reason, Rosaline pushed the door open with quiet precision, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene before her.
Adam was sprawled on the bed, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he winced, his brows furrowed in discomfort. He was shirtless, his broad chest and muscular arms glistening with a sheen of sweat that glimmered in the dim light of the room.
Adam, startled by her sudden appearance, jumped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Rosaline! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
Rosaline, her eyes softening with concern, ignored his question. She stepped closer, her gaze drawn to the way he was clutching his leg.
“You’re in pain,” she said, her voice soft with tenderness she didn’t often show.
She wasn’t accustomed to such vulnerability, especially from him, but the sight of his discomfort stirred something protective in her. She couldn’t stand to see anyone, least of all him, suffer alone.
Adam, still processing the intrusion, tried to wave her off, though his gaze flickered with something like frustration. “It’s nothing. Just a pulled muscle.”
Rosaline, however, was not to be dissuaded. She knelt beside him, her eyes scanning his leg with a precise intelligence.
“Let me see,” she insisted, her voice firm with unspoken authority. He was stubborn, yes, but she wasn’t about to let him suffer in silence. “Let me see the old pulled muscle that ails you so much I could hear you from next door. Have you forgotten that I am your wife ? Do you think I am blind, deaf, and dumb?”
Adam, his resolve weakening, allowed her to examine him.
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
Rosaline huffed in exasperation, her brow furrowing as she continued to inspect him.
“Of course it’s not nothing,” she retorted, her voice firm. “You’re so stubborn, you know that?”
He shot her a sidelong glance, his eyes dark and unreadable. “And you,” he countered, “are overly concerned.”
“Overly concerned?” she scoffed, rising to meet his gaze. Her voice rose, the sharp edge of her frustration cutting through the tension. “Of course I am concerned! You are my husband, whether you like it or not.”
His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a hard line. “Husband,” he repeated, the word tasting like bitter wine on his tongue. “A word that carries a great deal of weight, Duchess.”
The word “duchess” struck a nerve, a flash of heat rising in her cheeks. He ’ s deliberately provoking me , she thought, her heart fluttering with a mixture of irritation and something else, something more dangerous that she refused to acknowledge.
“Perhaps it does,” she replied, her voice steady, though the tremor running through her was unmistakable. “But it also carries responsibility.”
Adam leaned closer, his gaze intense, almost predatory as he searched her eyes for a reaction. “Responsibility?” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “Such as?”
Rosaline, feeling a surge of defiance that matched his intensity, met his gaze with her own. “Such as ensuring your well-being,” she said, her voice unwavering despite the tempest of emotions stirring inside her. “Even if you refuse to accept it.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed further. “You are a stubborn woman, Duchess.”
“Says the pot to the kettle!”
Their gazes locked, the air between them crackling with a potent mix of anger and…something else. Something that made her breath catch in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs. There was a magnetic tension between them now, a force that neither could ignore. It was almost as if their every word was charged with electricity.
Adam, his eyes blazing with a mixture of amusement and something darker, reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
“You are more than just stubborn, Rosaline,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. “You are…intoxicating.”
The warmth of his hand against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and her breath caught in her throat.
He leaned even closer, his breath hot against her cheek, his lips barely inches from hers.
“You have a tempest in you, Duchess,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent another tremor through her. “A tempest that ignites something within me.”
Rosaline, her heart pounding, met his gaze head-on. The pull between them seemed to draw her closer, as if she were caught in a force she couldn’t escape.
He leaned even closer, his lips hovering inches from hers. “I wanted to tear off that gown of yours, back at that ballroom,” he whispered, his voice now a husky caress.
“That’s why I told you to meet me privately, until we were interrupted,” he paused. “I wanted to rip that bloody dress to pieces and taste every inch of your delicious body.”
Rosaline, her breath catching again, felt the mixture of fear and exhilaration that twisted inside her. This is dangerous , she thought, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
It was as if every inch of her being wanted to close the gap, to surrender to the fire between them.
“Well,” she gulped, “there is no one to interrupt us now.”
He closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, demanding kiss.
Rosaline, startled, gasped, but then, something within her ignited, a spark of something wild and untamed. She clung to him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her lips parting beneath his.
The kiss was a whirlwind—passionate, intense, and utterly consuming. It was a battle of wills, a clash of desires, a surrender to the primal urge that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
Rosaline’s hands found Adam’s chest, and she remembered suddenly, delightedly, that he was not wearing a shirt.
Rosaline gasped into the kiss as Adam’s grip tightened possessively, a commanding arm locked around her lower back, the other hand pleasantly tight on the back of her neck.
Her soft curves melted against the chiseled planes of his chest, making her sigh. It felt electric where her breasts, belly, and thighs pressed against the duke’s.
She let her hands begin to explore, tracing lightly over the bare skin of Adam’s arms, his chest, his back, until he suddenly shivered under her touch, growling into the kiss.
Rosaline whined with need when Adam broke the kiss, trying to follow him, but he nudged her jaw firmly with his nose, then began planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
Rosaline let her head tip back, allowing him more access as his stubble scraped down to her collarbone.
“I have wanted all of you for so long, wife,” he rasped, and Rosaline gasped in surprise when his hand roughly cupped her breast, squeezing and massaging in a way that made her moan out loud.
At the sound she made, Adam dragged his face away from Rosaline’s throat and looked at her, his breathing ragged.
Rosaline felt her insides become molten with desperate need at the way the duke looked at her. His mouth slightly open as he drew ragged breaths, eyes dark and intense, locked onto her like a predator locks onto its prey.
“This is your last chance.” Adam growled, and Rosaline trembled at the animalistic sound, her core hot and twisting with desire. “If you do not leave now, I will make you my own. You will be irrevocably mine, every part of you.”
He was visibly restraining himself, but Rosaline could feel his grip on the back of her neck tighten slightly, the other hand still radiating heat through her thin nightgown as it cupped her breast.
“I want to be yours,” Rosaline replied simply, and then the duke’s lips crashed into hers again, demanding, and starving for his duchess.
There was no saving the nightgown. Adam, in his absolute desire for Rosaline, tore it off of her, the thin fabric giving way before his indomitable desire. Feeling the sudden chill of air touching her skin, Rosaline shivered and pressed closer to Adam, who picked her up and threw her onto the bed with a snarl.
In a flash, his trousers were off, and he was on top of Rosaline, caging her in against the bed with his arms and legs.
Rosaline stared, wide-eyed, up at Adam, his blue eyes wild with need for her, his dark hair framing his eyes, and felt her own lust coil within her. She slid her hands up his arms, onto his shoulders, trying to tug him down for a kiss.
The duke just smirked at her, not budging. “Beg,” he commanded.
Rosaline felt her core liquefy, and she whimpered. “Please.”
“Louder.” Adam snarled.
“Please!” Rosaline gasped, and he kissed her hard, his tongue forcing into her mouth and conquering its new domain.
She moaned into the kiss, clawing at Adam desperately to pull him closer, to have more of him.
Adam reached up and grabbed Rosaline’s wrists, pinning them to the bed above her head with one of his own, the other resting lightly against her collarbone at the base of her throat. Rosaline bucked against the pressure, wanting more, and Adam leaned into her, holding her down.
“You are mine.” Adam whispered roughly, and Rosaline felt his member stroking along her molten core, then slip inside, filling her almost beyond what she could take.
Rosaline bucked her hips against Adam, whining with a mix of pleasure and pain that nearly had her seeing stars.
“Hush.” Adam leaned more weight into the hand on Rosaline’s chest, and she froze, wide-eyed, obedient. “Take a moment to adjust.” He ordered.
He then leaned down and kissed Rosaline gently, beginning to stroke in and out of her with slow, gentle thrusts.
Rosaline strained against the hand pinning her wrists down, wanting to touch Adam, to run her hands through his hair, to drag him closer, faster, but his grip didn’t falter.
Suddenly, Adam’s hand slid from her chest to rest at her throat just below her jaw, and grip tightly enough that she gasped. She tilted her head back, arching her back as he slowly sheathed himself completely inside her.
“Look at me.” Adam commanded, his hand on Rosaline’s throat firmly forcing her to obey. “Good girl.”
And then Adam was slamming into her, hard and fast, making Rosaline scream in pleasure. She arched her back so much that she lifted off the mattress, and Adam squeezed her throat and wrists.
“Relax for me, take all of me.” His pace was frantic, almost vicious.
Rosaline relaxed beneath him, and felt the white-hot lightning coil at her core. She cried out as her entire body clenched and shuddered as she came undone.
Rosaline’s climax caused Adam’s, and she felt his hot release inside of her, filling her.
With his final strokes, he forced her to look at him again.
“You. Are. Mine .”