Undercover Duke by Jeffries Sabrina

Author:Jeffries, Sabrina
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2021-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Sheridan knew what he was doing was wrong, and he didn’t care. Seeing her in Juncker’s arms had unleashed an unholy hunger in him. He wanted to stamp out every trace of Juncker, to claim her for his own . . . even knowing such an attempt would be disastrous. Her mercurial nature, which kept him oddly entertained, would also make her a terrible duchess.

But damn, how she moved him. Her mouth, so tender and sweet. Her skin, soft as feather beds. And her bountiful breasts, which he wanted to suck so desperately that he considered somehow getting them out of her gown and corset and shift. Here. In the half light of dusk. In a public garden.

God save him. His cock felt as if it would burst the seams of his smallclothes, and his hands itched to lift her skirts. One had already begun doing so, inching them up slyly as if acting independently of his brain.

He wanted her so badly.

“Sheridan,” she whispered, “we can’t do such things here.”

“I know,” he said. “I just . . . can’t seem to get enough of you.”

He would do penance for saying that later, but for now he didn’t care about anything but licking her silky skin, stroking and caressing her under her skirts to see if she was as hot for him as he was for her. Because if she was, then perhaps she had lost interest in Juncker. Perhaps he could step in.

Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. For him, it was only desire, nothing more. He was helping her make Juncker jealous. That was all.

Liar.

He lifted his head to kiss her throat. He wished he could take down her hair, but that was definitely unwise. Instead, he settled for tonguing the pulse that beat in her neck, while his hands roamed her body, taking shameless liberties. He memorized a curve here, a sensitive patch of skin there, finding her wildly responsive to his every touch. Between her gasps and his moans, they were making an unwise amount of noise. Perhaps they should—

“She’s here, I tell you,” came Lady Eustace’s voice. “Look, I see them. That scoundrel!”

Sheridan straightened and released Vanessa in one fluid motion, but it was too late. The unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked disturbed the quiet of the garden square.

“Step away from my niece, sir. Or I swear you will not live beyond this moment.”

Vanessa’s uncle. Bloody hell. Nothing like the sound of a gun cocking to make one’s own cock stand down. Which was a small blessing, he supposed.

“Uncle Noah, you can’t—” Vanessa began.

“Be quiet now, my dear,” Sir Noah said in a deadly voice. “You and I will talk in a bit. Go with your mother.”

“Do as he says,” Sheridan ordered. “I will be along shortly.”

“If he doesn’t kill you first!” Vanessa cried.

Her concern for him was a balm to his wounded dignity. The dignity he had recklessly tossed aside for a taste of her.

Yet he did not regret it, fool that he was.

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