Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Do you require anything, Your Grace?” one of the servants asked as he noticed Simon loitering in the hallway.
He had been pacing along the length of it for some moments now. Each time, he would stop outside Rachel’s door and then turn away.
“No,” he replied, a bit embarrassed at having been caught like this. “You may be dismissed.”
The servant nodded immediately and scurried off.
Simon paced the length of the hallway once more and then stopped in front of Rachel’s door again.
He had no real reason to be here—no logical one at least—but logic had long since abandoned him where she was concerned.
You only wish to know if she is doing well, he told himself. Nothing more. It was only out of the goodness of his heart that he was checking up on her.
Yes. That was it. He had found his reasoning. With a quiet inhale, he pushed the door open.
Rachel was in bed. Or rather, she was attempting to hide in bed.
The moment the door creaked, she jolted upright, her breath catching as she clutched the covers to her chest, pulling them up so fast it was as if she feared exposure.
Simon’s brows furrowed. He seemed to have disturbed… something.
“Your Grace,” she started hastily, her voice slightly higher than usual. “I didn’t expect to— What…. what are you doing here?”
Simon took a step inside, studying her. “I came to check on you. Do you feel better now?”
“There was no need,” she said quickly, a blush forming on her cheeks.
It was not lost on him that she refused to even look in his direction. His gaze swept over her.
“Is there anything else you need?” Her words came out rushed as though she was in a great hurry to be rid of him.
Only that had the opposite effect, making him want to stay even more. He took a few steps towards her and narrowed his eyes. “Why are you acting strangely? It is not that late in the hour, and I did not interrupt your sleep.”
“I am not acting strangely,” she said defensively.
“You refuse to even look in my direction,” he pointed out dryly.
At his words, her hands tightened around the sheets that she was clutching against her chest— so tightly in fact that her knuckles were turning white from the gesture. Almost as though she was… hiding herself.
Oh.
Understanding dawned, and his expression darkened.
“Rachel.” His voice was low and commanding. All facades of concern had evaporated.
No, his reasoning for visiting her had suddenly shifted.
She swallowed hard. “I—What is it that you need…”
He took another step toward the bed. “Take your hands off the blanket.”
She shook her head quickly. “No.” There was a hint of panic in her voice.
Simon exhaled sharply. Ah, so she wanted to be stubborn.
Fine.
Without warning, he reached down and pulled.
Rachel gasped, her hands scrambling to hold on, but Simon was stronger. The covers slipped from her grasp, pooling around her waist—
And Simon’s breath caught in his throat.
Bloody hell.
She was barely dressed.
A thin chemise clung to her body, the fabric sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. The straps had fallen slightly from her shoulders, the neckline dipping scandalously low, exposing her cleavage in a way that he had not been privy to before.
Heat coiled in Simon’s gut, and his thoughts darkened immediately.
God, she was a beautiful woman.
Rachel sucked in a breath, instinctively reaching to grab the covers again, but he caught her wrist before she could.
“Simon,” she whispered, her cheeks flaming.
His grip on her wrist tightened. “You have broken the rules, Duchess.”
Rachel blinked, trying to gather herself. “What? I was simply in my own room—”
“Rule number four,” he said simply. He loved it when she played innocent like this.
“Never provoke you,” she repeated.
“Exactly. And this is what you have done just now.”
Rachel’s breath came faster, her pulse hammering against her skin. She had not intended for this to happen. She had not expected him to walk in and find her like this.
But now…
Now, he was looking at her.
And God help her—she liked it.
Simon’s fingers traced down the inside of her wrist, barely touching yet sending shivers through her entire body.
“You need to be punished,” he murmured.
Rachel swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Punished?”
A slow smirk curved his lips.
“Yes, my sweet wife.” He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “We need to teach you a lesson, don’t we? I intend to make sure you never break the rules again.”
Rachel’s breath came faster, her pulse hammering in her throat. “Simon,” she started, though she wasn’t sure whether it was meant as a protest or an invitation.
He did not move away.
If anything, his grip on her wrist tightened slightly, his thumb pressing into her skin in a way that made her stomach twist.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
Simon tilted his head, his gaze traveling over her flushed face, her lips parted in uncertainty. “Like what?”
She swallowed. “Like you’re—”
“Starving?” he finished for her.
Rachel exhaled sharply. He was looking at her like that. With the kind of hunger that should have scared her. But instead, it made her want to stay.
“You provoked me, Rachel,” Simon murmured, his fingers trailing up her arm, skimming over her bare shoulder.
“I did not,” she tried to argue without a trace of conviction.
His gaze darkened. “You did.” His touch moved lower, just the faintest graze against the neckline of her chemise, sending heat curling through her limbs. “You tempt without realizing. You awaken things I have no business wanting.”
Rachel barely breathed. “Then why are you still here?”
“I came to check on you,” he admitted, though the hoarseness in his voice suggested that was no longer the only reason.
She swallowed. “You should go.”
He did not move.
Instead, his hand traced down her waist, fingers splaying against her hip. His thumb brushed against the soft, exposed skin there.
Rachel gasped.
“Tell me to stop,” Simon murmured.
Rachel opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because how could she tell him to stop when she wanted this?
Simon exhaled heavily, his lips pressing together. Then, slowly—too slowly—he pushed the thin fabric of her chemise higher, his touch searing.
Rachel trembled. “Simon…”
He let out a soft curse under his breath, dragging his mouth down her neck, just barely brushing against the sensitive skin.
“This is a punishment, Duchess,” he murmured, his voice rough. “And I do not intend for you to enjoy it.”
A blatant lie.
Because even as he said the words, he was touching her in a way that made pleasure coil deep in her belly.
His fingers moved lower until finally… finally… they reached the small space between her legs.
She thought that he would continue to touch her with his fingers, but what he did next surprised her. She could not have imagined it in a million lifetimes.
Slowly, he tilted his head towards her until it was hovering just between her thighs.
“S—Simon,” his name ripped through her throat, but he seemed not to be listening to her anymore.
He was unraveling her, piece by piece, breaking through whatever innocence she had left.
Her eyes shut close, and then she felt him—his mouth on her.
And then he tasted her.
Rachel’s fingers twisted into the sheets, her body arching as his mouth found places she hadn’t even realized could burn for him.
“S—Simon,” she cried out his name again, incapable of anything else. His tongue moved slowly, but it was enough to drive her over the edge.
Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale.
Simon’s lips brushed against her femininity once more, his voice like molten heat. “You are trembling.”
Rachel swallowed hard. “I—”
“I know,” he said darkly, smug.
And God help her, she loved it.
The tension coiled tighter, heat building, her body writhing beneath him as the pleasure became unbearable. She was right there—on the edge of something she had never experienced before.
She wished for him to go faster. Deeper. She wanted him to devour her on this bed and never stop. She wanted to tangle her hands in his hair and pull at it.
It felt too good to be real.
Until he stopped.
Rachel gasped sharply as the loss of sensation crashed over her. Her eyes snapped open, wild with frustration and confusion.
Simon was breathing heavily as he pulled himself up, his forehead nearly pressed to hers now, and his hands clenched into fists.
“No,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “No, don’t—”
His eyes burned into hers, dark and unreadable. “This is not for you to control, Rachel.”
Her heart pounded. “Simon—”
His thumb grazed her swollen lips, the movement both possessive and tormenting.
“This is what happens when you break the rules. You do not deserve to finish.”
Finish? There was more to this? She did not understand his language.
All she knew was that her entire body throbbed with frustration, her skin flushed and sensitive. “That—” she swallowed, her voice unsteady. “That was cruel.”
Simon exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair.
”No, Duchess,” he murmured, as if convincing himself. “That was mercy.”
Then, without another word, he pulled away and began to walk off.
Rachel stared at him, her breathing ragged, her limbs still trembling. How could she even begin to recover from what he had done to her?
She did not even know such pleasure was possible.
“Wait,” she called as he turned toward the door.
He hesitated for a moment but then turned.
“You should sleep now. I merely came to check up on you.” His gaze met hers. “But you seem to have a habit of distracting me.”
Perfect. So he had already gone back to pretending everything was normal and that nothing had happened.
If that was the case, fine.
She forced herself to sit up, her chemise falling back into place, though it hardly mattered now.
”Marina,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Invite her to stay with me.”
“You do not have to ask me that.”
Then, before she could say anything else, he left.
And Rachel was left burning.
Gods. What had he just done to her?