Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

" A nthony," Eliza began, trying to keep her voice steady, "I need to speak with you."

Anthony had found himself in need of distraction all day; he'd already gone out riding in the early hours of the morning—for sleep, or rather serene sleep as Eliza's lush body pressed against him continued to his dreams, evaded him. He'd already had breakfast, already finished the most pressing of today's tasks; certainly, he could have taken up some of tomorrow's, but his mind was far too restless to deal with those.

Thus, he had strolled to the library closest to this study in a search of a book; a story that would draw away his mind from his wife at last.

But, it appeared that'd had the opposite effect, because he'd found Eliza perched on the windowsill of the library's large window with an opened book in her lap.

Anthony's went over her; she was wearing a silk gown that was the color of ripe peaches, which evoked memories of summer picnics; soft blankets laid upon the fresh grass, crumpets, peaches, strawberries and cream…

Heavens, how he longed to lavish her beautiful bosom with cream and lick it right off.

Get a grip, Redfern , he scolded himself.

"Yes?" he asked after clearing his throat, using every ounce of power in him to shoo away thoughts of ravishing his wife on a picnic blanket.

Eliza hopped off the windowsill, leaving the book she was reading behind, and approached him.

"I have been feeling very… confused," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "By your behavior, specifically. Before we arrived here, you told me you believed me about not colluding with my aunt, yet, ever since we came here, you've done everything in your power to avoid me. What's going on, Anthony?"

As she stopped before him, he took in the constellations of freckles on her face.

How was he to explain to her the chaos inside him?

"I do believe you. You do not have to explain yourself again," he said as reassuringly as he could.

"So, what is the matter then? I thought you and I… We were on good terms before all this, no?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Good terms is a very light way to put it , he thought.

"Yes," he confirmed, his mind again wandering to their secret meetings, to the masquerade, to her taste?—

God, her taste…

"So? Why are you avoiding me like the plague?" she asked, her arms crossing over her glorious chest, the mounts of her breasts spilling over.

He breathed out shakily, trying his hardest not to allow his animalistic side to take over while his wife was trying to have an honest conversation with him.

"I told you, Eliza. This marriage… This is a marriage of convenience. We were caught together and had to marry to preserve our reputations. That is all," he answered, fighting to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"I understand that. Certainly that doesn't mean that we cannot try to be civil with each other," she said, taking a step forward.

"Civil? Am I not civil with you?"

"Never mind civil. I merely wish for us to be… Perhaps… Friends? And not mere strangers who happen to live together?"

His mind swirled as he stood before Eliza. Her presence, her beauty, the sheer intensity of her blue eyes—it was all too much. He could barely keep his thoughts straight, let alone maintain the icy fa?ade he'd carefully constructed since their marriage.

She was right. He had been avoiding her, not because he didn't want to be around her, but because he wanted her far too much. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of the passion that had flared between them before.

But here she was, standing so close, her breath mingling with his, her scent filling his senses, demanding an answer. His chest tightened with the effort to restrain himself, but this request… It pushed him to the brink.

He had to maintain control; feelings had begun to creep in. And yet, the lust had not diminished—quite the opposite. And because of that, no matter how much he'd try to avoid her, he would see her. They lived in the same house now, their rooms only a few strides apart. There was no point in holding back anymore.

Still, there had to be a line. For both their sakes.

Anthony took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes, followed by a glimmer of hope.

"No, Eliza," he said, "We cannot be friends."

The flicker of hope in her eyes dimmed slightly, confusion settling in its place.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"Because," he continued, his tone growing more intense, "I desire you, Eliza. More than I've ever desired anyone in my life. I cannot stop imagining what it would be like to have you completely—to make you mine. Over and over again."

Her breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock and something that looked a lot like relief. "Anthony…"

"You want to know the truth, Eliza?" the words spilled out of him like a waterfall, "I've been avoiding you because every time I look at you, I want to throw you against the nearest surface and take you until you're screaming my name. Until there's nothing left of us but pure, raw pleasure."

"Anthony—"

But before she could say another word, he moved.

Anthony's mouth crashed down on Eliza's in a bruising, possessive kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

There was no gentleness, no hesitation—just pure, unrestrained desire. His hands roamed her body with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine, his touch both commanding and electrifying.

She moaned into his mouth, her body arching into his as she surrendered to the force of his passion. This was the Anthony she knew, the man the ton had so often whispered about—a man driven by primal need, a man who had finally unleashed the full force of his desire upon her.

He broke the kiss, and pulled away slightly. Her heart pounded in fear, fear that he would walk off again, leaving her frustrated and?—

"Before we… continue," he said, clearing his throat, "we need to make something clear."

"What is it?" she asked, her worry growing with each second.

His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "This… arrangement between us," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "must remain purely physical. No emotions. No expectations beyond the immediate."

Relief eased her breath.

He wants me. He still wants me , she thought.

She was aware Anthony was not the marrying kind precisely because of his reputation, and their pretend betrothal. Back at the ball, right before her aunt had enacted her wicked plan to force Anthony's hand, she had wanted to distance herself because her future was in danger. Now, that she was married and ostensibly had the freedom that she so dearly wished for, there was nothing to hold her back from giving in to Anthony.

And she wanted him. Desperately. And if this was the only way she could have him, so be it.

"Agreed," she replied, her voice steady. "No emotions. Just desire."

She saw the relief in Anthony's green eyes, only to be replaced by hunger once again.

Then, Anthony pressed his lips to her ear, his voice a rough whisper that made her knees weak. "Good. Because tonight, you're all mine, wife. And I'm going to show you exactly what that means."

Before she could respond, Anthony made her back up until her back found the wall, pressing her against it with a force that was both commanding and exhilarating.

"God, your body feels so good in my hands…" he murmured in her ear as his hands snaked under her dress and squeezed her buttocks.

She gasped at the roughness of his touch, but not in fear; in exhilaration.

She could feel the hardness of the wall against her back, the heat of his body pressing into hers, the way his hands gripped her hips with a dominance that made her heart race. And then, with a swift, deliberate motion, he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his waist.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, pushing his hips against hers, "Do you feel how hard you make me?"

Eliza inhaled sharply as she felt his arousal pressing against her core, and a wave of heat pooled in her belly. Her body responded instinctively, her hips grinding against him, seeking the release that he'd given her at the masquerade, at his house…

"Y-yes, I do," she answered, her voice shaky.

His lips found hers again, and this time, the kiss was even more intense, more demanding. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with animalistic hunger. There was nothing soft or tender about the way he kissed her—it was possessive, almost brutal, as if he was marking her as his own.

"You want this," Anthony murmured against her lips, his voice dark and dangerous. "You want me to take you, to claim you."

"Yes," she breathed, "Anthony, please…"

He didn't need any more encouragement. With a low growl, he pushed her leg down and led her to the closest reading table. There were some books left on them, but Anthony, in a smooth, easy motion, knocked them all off and lifted her up on it.

As her legs hanged off from the corners of the mahogany table, Anthony tore at her clothing, the sound of fabric ripping filling the air. The shredded dress fell to her sides and Anthony helped her unlace her corset, casting it to the side. Her chemise followed soon after, and he exposed her naked body to his hungry gaze.

"That's not fair," she protested, her fist balling with the fabric of his coat.

He chuckled, "Who am I to deny my sweet wife?"

Swiftly, he removed his coat, cravat, and shirt, standing with his chest bared to her.

"Let me feel you," she heard herself say—the moment her eyes had fallen on his body, she had entered a trance.

Anthony let out a low sound of satisfaction that reverberated across her entire body, heightening her desire. He drew close again, and Eliza ran her hand down his muscular torso, the tip of her fingers grazing over the ridges of his strong muscles.

She bit her lip when her eyes landed on the straining fabric of his trousers, the memory of feeling his erection in her hand coming back to her, and her mind instantly wondered how that would feel inside her.

Eliza glanced back up at him as her hand travelled down there, eager to see his reaction.

Anthony inhaled sharply as her hand cupped his hardness, stroking it through his breeches with the slightest of pressure.

"You want this?" he asked, eyes darker than ever.

She gulped, "Yes."

Then, he smirked smugly, "Not yet."

She was about to protest, Anthony went on his knees in front of her, and pulled her hips closer to the edge of the table.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted another taste of you," he whispered as he looked up at her.

He placed a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, his lips barely brushing the skin, sending a shiver through her. Eliza's breath quickened, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

"My sweet, sweet wife," he murmured, his eyes locked on hers.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he placed his mouth on her, his tongue teasing and exploring with a mastery that left her gasping. Each stroke of his tongue, each flick of his lips, was calculated to bring her to the heights of pleasure. His movements were confident, assured, as if he were both an artist and a lover, sculpting her responses with every touch.

"Yes," she exclaimed, her hands flying to his hair, her fingers gripping tightly as she sought to ground herself amidst the waves of sensation he was creating.

His attention was unwavering, his focus solely on her pleasure, his skill evident in every caress.

The pleasure he gave her was both overwhelming and exquisite. Her moans filled the room; she was unable to control herself. She was completely at the mercy of his wicked tongue, of his lips, and his hands, and she loved it.

She could feel the heat building within her, a pressure that grew with every flicker of his tongue and every teasing nip of his lips.

"Anthony," she moaned, wanting to show him how exquisite he made her feel; she knew how much he loved when she said his name.

And she was right. As her breaths became ragged and her body trembled with the force of her mounting pleasure, Anthony's gaze remained fixed on her, a look of focused intensity in his eyes. She could see that he knew he was close to achieving his goal, and he pushed himself to maintain his steady rhythm, determined to push her over the edge.

When Eliza finally reached that peak, her cry of release was a raw, primal sound that echoed through the room. Anthony held her steady, his mouth still on her, guiding her through the wave of pleasure that swept over her.

As she came down from the high, her body still quivering with the aftershocks of her release, Anthony withdrew slowly, his tongue sweeping over his lips, as though he was licking honey off them.

"Absolutely delicious," he said and captured her lips with own once more.

Eliza tasted herself on his lips, and she felt his member, hard as steel again, which ignited a brand new fire within her.

She needed him. Now.

"Take me," she breathed in between kisses, "I want to feel you."

Anthony pulled away, his eyes lustful and dark.

"You want me?" he taunted, his characteristic smug smile splayed across his face.

"Yes."

He beamed at her as he undressed, his hardness springing free of its confines. Eliza's mouth watered at the sight.

Anthony grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him, "Do you want me to claim you, wife?"

"Yes," she stared back at him determinedly.

"Beg for it," he ordered, his breath hot against her skin.

"Please."

"I told you I would make you beg first. Do it again."

"Please, Anthony…" she implored and his thumb grazed over her lower lip.

"Again," he growled, leaning closer to her, and guided the tip of his manhood at her entrance, teasing it with light caresses that sent her reeling with need.

"Please, take me," she whimpered, "I want it so badly."

Anthony grunted, "There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Then, he spit on his member, coating it with his hand before placing the tip at her entrance again.

"Look at me, darling," he commanded and she met his gaze, "I want to see you as I make you mine."

And then, with a slow, smooth motion, he entered her, filling her completely.

Eliza cried out, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him, the intensity of the moment overwhelming her senses.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern taking over his features.

She nodded quickly, "Yes. Continue please."

He smiled and nodded back, his hands firmly on her hips, squeezing her curves.

Then, he started thrusting in and out, and her mind melted into the sensation, the world around her dissipating.

Soon, each thrust became hard and deep, driving her higher and higher until she was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with possession. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she gasped, her body trembling with the force of her impending release.

"Say my name."

"I'm yours, Anthony," she obliged him and his hand went to the center of her pleasure, the one he'd lavished so meticulously earlier, and began to rub it in circles.

Eliza's eyes rolled in the back of her head, the blend of sensations almost too much to bear. He was her undoing; just as he'd promised, he'd made her beg, and now, he was about to unravel her completely.

Eliza's scream of pleasure echoed through the room as her orgasm thundered through her, her body shuddering with each jolt.

Barely after she'd regained a sense of reality, she heard Anthony pant harder and faster.

"Open your eyes," he demanded, and she obliged, facing him.

And with a final, powerful thrust, he drove himself over the edge. His mouth clasped on her neck, and he reached his peak, his release tearing through him as he clung to her.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies still connected, the warmth of his body and the scent of his musk enveloping her.

Anthony pulled away, the distance between them growing once more.

"Incredible," he said breathlessly as he started to put his clothes back on.

Eliza felt herself blush as she looked at her torn dress. Anthony noticed that and approached her again.

"Wait here. I'll inform a maid to fetch you a dress," he said softly.

"Thank you," she responded, her hands instinctively wrapping around herself.

"Give me a moment first," he said and pulled her arms back, lowering himself to her breasts.

He cupped them and brought them to his lips, licking and sucking at her nipples. She moaned lightly, feeling her desire grow once again.

Am I constantly going to crave him? How am I to live like that?

Anthony pulled away and stood straight again.

"Good day, Duchess," he said with a wink.

"Good day, husband," she responded, trying to quell her lust as he walked out of the library.

Just as he'd promised, her lady's maid arrived a few moments later—Eliza had managed to put her chemise back on and lace her corset again before she did—and helped her look presentable once again.

Eliza thanked her, and the maid left her in the privacy of the library.

"No emotions," she whispered to herself. "Just desire."

But even as she repeated the words, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between them—something neither of them was ready to acknowledge.