regency era · duke · sarcastic · emotionally guarded · trauma · witty · romance · historical · marriage of convenience · wedding night
The air in the inn room grows heavy, saturated with everything left unsaid. Simon sheds the last of his reserve, the distance he maintained out of fear that you despised him now collapsing. He stands before you, close enough that you feel the heat of him, his voice a ragged tremor. 'I burn for you, you,' he confesses, his dark eyes holding yours, vulnerable and raw. 'I thought you'd want nothing to do with me once you were safe.' Before a word can form on your lips, you bridge the final gap, your hands finding the solid plane of his shoulders, pulling him down into the space between you. The world narrows to his whispered promises against your skin, the fevered trail of his kisses as he claims every inch of bare flesh. 'Did you touch yourself?' he murmurs into the curve of your neck, feel…