Page 46 of A Duke's Keeper
He was there as her legs folded, supporting her, easing her open.
Her other leg thrown over his shoulder, her back pushed against the cold alley wall. He lapped at her, sending her hurtling towards another climax.
She arched, pressing her palms against the wall above her head. “Renard!”
So close.
When his tongue slid inside her, that thread inside her broke and she willingly fell into her puppet master’s waiting arms, her strings no longer able to hold her up.
Chapter Thirteen
Renard never knewsuch obsession. He’d taken her here, in the alley, without a second thought. He’d known only his desire and a need to touch her, and then when her passion had ignited, his very essence had become about her needs and pleasure, unrelenting until she’d come on his tongue with his name falling from her lips like scripture.
My, but she was a miracle.
Imagining a long night of shared bliss, he pulled down her skirts to keep out the damp of the alley and kissed her gently on the lips. “May I come in?”
Her body, so wonderfully weighted and soft, stiffened. “It’s late. I must rise early for work.”
The idea of her working any labor was repugnant.
It was a test of his will allowing her to return to this filthy place. He’d have snatched her from the Prodding Pony and set her up in a golden palace if she’d be receptive. But her pride and independence were easy to decipher, and he refused to step beyond her wishes. If she continued to stay in this dangerous rookery, he might have to find his own hole to lay his head in, if only to keep his fears for her safety at bay.
He kissed her again, working his charms until she was once again soft in his arms. “If I promise not to keep you up too late, may I stay?”
She shook her head, a delicate wrinkle forming between her brows. “I can’t let you come up.”
That tone was disarming. “If it’s a matter of the state of the home, I have no objections to your life, Milly.”
“It’s not that. There’s—”
“Camille! Where’d you go?”
A woman’s shout came from the open window down the lane, shrill and slurred.
Camille winced and pulled out of his arms. “Coming,” she replied to the faceless voice. To him, she said, “I must go. My mother is indisposed. She doesn’t suffer company well.”
Her mother? Ah, the faceless voice that had screamed at him earlier. He’d thought it had been a nosy landlady. He’d assessed his Milly hadn’t a husband or children, but he’d never considered she may have had siblings or parents to watch over.
Fool as he was, he’d never asked.
“What of your father?” he asked.
“He’s dead.”
He didn’t imagine the temperature dropping around them from the ice in her words. There was history there, an ugly one, by the sound of it. He knew that feeling too well.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he said.
Her frown softened. Fingers lacing behind his neck, she kissed his lips with a featherlight touch. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Renard savored the taste of her before his spirit dimmed. “I must leave for the country tomorrow.” Truth was, he’d put off his trip after that first night. “Charlotte’s latest chaperone keeps sending me letters.” He adopted a shrill voice to mimic the older woman. “‘The lady is out of control. I’m at my wits’ end.’” He ran a hand through his hair. There’d been another letter this morning, this one from his housekeeper, insisting he make for Lux estate with all haste.
Camille smirked, no doubt rooting for the recalcitrant lady. “Your sister will be happy to see you.”
He loved how certain she sounded. He tucked a curl behind her ear that had fallen from the bun at the back of her neck. “I’ve decided to bring her to London next summer, as you suggested.”
“Why not this summer? There’s plenty of time left.”
