The Duke of New York_A Contemporary Bad Boy Royal Romance

by Lisa Lace

  She smiles. “You’re not going to offer me a vodka and cranberry?” There is a mischievous gleam in her eye.

  “You’re never going to let me live down how smooth I used to think I was, are you?”

  “You still think you’re smooth.” She laughs. “Don’t forget that I got more than a few messages from you before you realized I wasn’t that other woman.”

  I flush at the memory. Sophie is sitting on my sofa with one leg crossed over the other. I hand her a glass of wine, which she accepts, shyly twisting a strand of her long blond hair around a finger. Her lips are crimson. She has no idea how sexy she is. Only a week ago, this very woman was sending me messages that would make a sailor blush. I recall all the explicit acts she’d promised me. I feel a rush of blood downward.

  “I got the impression that you were on Tinder, too. It was mistaken identity on both ends, wasn’t it? Unless you’re in the habit of sending dirty messages to any old stranger who gets the wrong number.”

  She blushes, and I feel a surge of pleasure at the sight. I always loved to tease her.

  “I wasn’t taking it too seriously,” she tells me. “I went on a few dates, but sparks didn’t fly with anyone. You, on the other hand. You were at the sexting stage with someone.” She sits up and stares at me intently. “You said you broke up with her? Was it serious?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’d been on a few dates with Fifi, but we were hardly head-over-heels. She was so unfazed by the breakup that I was almost offended.”

  “And before her? Have you dated much over the years?”

  I sit down beside Sophie, my own glass of wine in my hand. I take a deep swig. It’s not the best wine, and I curse myself inwardly for buying the cheap stuff, intending to drink it alone. Still, it does the job.

  I edge closer to Sophie. “No. There have been a few women I’ve dated casually, but nothing ever stuck. You?”

  “Nothing ever stuck.”

  “Well. Maybe this is fate after all.”

  Sophie says nothing, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes. She takes a long sip of her wine and places the glass down on the side table, then looks across at me. “It feels good to be together again, doesn’t it? Almost like old times.”

  I reply with a kiss. It takes her by surprise. She draws back for a moment with a gasp, her eyes scanning my face. Then, she leans forward and kisses me with a passion I didn’t expect—like she’s been waiting to do it all along.

  Sophie

  I feel his presence behind me, stealing my attention from the photographs on the wall. The warmth of his breath on the back of my neck raises goosebumps on my skin, and I like it. It mixes with the electricity I feel from his fingertips barely touching my arms. His chest against my back lights an inferno deep inside, one that has been dead for almost a decade. My ache for him is familiar. I have suppressed it for so long. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I close my eyes and allow myself to feel him against me.

  “Sophie,” he whispers. “God, how I’ve missed you.”

  My breath catches. I look over my shoulder as he hooks his finger into the top of my dress, pulling the material down my arm. His kiss almost burns my skin when he kisses me there.

  “Don’t deny me, Sophie.” He hasn’t lost his ability to seduce me. I am captivated. I don’t think I could deny him if I wanted to. It took me years to get over him, and only a few hours to pull me back into his world.

  He buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply, then lifts it away, baring my neck. His kiss follows, causing an ache deep in the pit of my stomach.

  “Cole.” I hesitate, knowing what I should say, knowing what is needed to be said, but nothing comes out. I could move away from him, lean toward the wall, but I don’t. “Should we do this?”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate. He sounds confident. I wished I were.

  “Cole,” I repeat again, not moving away from him.

  “Let me fix this, Sophie. Let me show you I was wrong for leaving you.”

  He spins me around and covers my lips with his before I can explain my apprehensions. My legs weaken when his arms close around me, but I push him away.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He steps back. I can see the effort in his restraint. His skin is flushed, and there is hunger in his eyes. “The ball’s in your court, Sophie.”

  I stare at him. His expression is filled with desire, but he’s holding back. I know that this is entirely my choice.

  My hands slide around his neck, and I melt into him.

  He scoops me up, my legs dangling toward the floor. His kiss deepens, and his tongue pushes past my lips, invading my mouth and stealing my breath. A wispy moan comes out of nowhere and escapes my lips, scattering my thoughts into the air. He carries me across the room, keeping me in his arms until his bed is underneath me.

  Someplace in the back of my mind, a voice of reason tries to break through.

  This is it, Sophie. There is no turning back now.

  If I allow myself to make love to Cole, I’ll be risking a lot. My heart is at stake, and I’m scared as hell.

  But I crave him. I want to touch him like I used to.

  He lowers me to the bed, and I look up at him, studying his face. I need to see something—anything that will reassure me he has changed. I look at him, remembering that look in his eyes—that devious grin, and his charisma that stole my heart in the beginning. My first time with him floods my mind. I can feel my heart beating faster.

  He leans forward and crawls toward me. Why do I feel like this is my first time? My body trembles in anticipation. His hands peel my red dress up over my thighs, my hips, my stomach and then my breasts. He throws it onto the carpet.

  He smiles, crouching down toward my stomach. A soft kiss leaves me pining for more. I look down at him, trying to steady my breath until I feel his teeth graze my bare skin. My steady breathing shatters.

  My breath catches when he towers over me and looks down at my body. Do I still look good to him? His lips hint at a smile, and a devious squint covers his eyes.

  He lowers himself onto me, his hands gliding up my sides, and the thought dissipates, leaving only a burning desire for him to be inside of me. I need to feel him against me. I raise my hips to meet his kisses, his fingers hooking into the sides of my panties. I feel them being dragged down my legs leaving me completely exposed to his eyes. I’m breathing heavily, my eyes glued to his face.

  His grin disappears, his lips separate, and a hunger steals his expression. I know what is next. I remember it well—what he likes. He knows what I like, too. I tremble as I wait for it.

  His hands push my legs apart. An unexpected whimper escapes my lips, and I open my eyes wide. I look down just in time to see his eyes consume my body, moving his glare down to what he is after, what he is hungry for.

  His hands reach up and cover my breasts, pushing my bra out of his way, as he teases around my womanhood with the tip of his tongue. I take another big breath, but it’s getting more difficult to keep my composure. He knows the way around my body. The way he looks at me, the little noises he makes, intensify my arousal as it burns through me like a wildfire. His tongue plays a little harder, a little deeper, a little hungrier. His thumbs roll my nipples, increasing my desire for him.

  I need him closer. I need him inside me.

  He presses his body into mine, satisfied that he has made me utterly crazy for him again. “When I’m ready,” he growls. The buckle on his belt presses into my stomach, and the feel of his leather jacket on my bare skin almost throws me over the edge.

  I love feeling vulnerable. He knows it, uses it, and always gets through my barriers. It was one of the reasons it took me so long to get over him.

  He pulls my bra from my body and stares down at me. “You’re so delicious, Sophie. I screwed up bad when I let you walk out of my life.” He leans down and kisses my chin. “I promise to make it right if you let me.” He leans down again and kisses my cheek. “I want to make you mine again.”
His tongue glides across his lip and trails along the side of my neck, drawing a shiver from me. “Tell me I can, Sophie. Tell me you’re mine again.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Tell me. Say it.”

  “I’m yours.”

  He pulls himself up and fumbles with his buckle. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he pulls his pants down, lifts his shirt off with his jacket and drops his boxers. He kicks everything off the bed and pounces on me, imprisoning me beneath him. His mouth covers mine, and he kisses me hard. I feel the weight of his body push into me, his kiss deepening and his hands pushing underneath my buttocks.

  He jerks my hips up and enters me. I force a breath in, trying to suppress the orgasm that threatens me. I feel my muscles tense, rigid with the feel of him deep inside me. He stops, wraps himself around me, and holds me there like he knows.

  I gasp, feeling him pulsate, then forcing himself to wait until I can handle him.

  The feeling he gives me wells my eyes with tears. Everything I felt for him, everything I suppressed and tried to extinguish since he left, comes flooding back with so much power that it overwhelms me.

  My hands cascade down his back. I can feel the strong contours of his broad shoulders feed down to the small of his back, over his ass. I pull him into me harder, yelping as I convulse beneath him. I find myself crying out when he agonizingly, slowly withdraws from me and slips back inside.

  He fucks me better than I can remember—slow at first, then increasing his speed as his breathing gets harder. His kiss almost bruises my lips. He pushes my mouth open and thrusts his tongue inside, invading my soul and making my desire for him turn to a need, a necessity I didn’t think I could live without. He fucks me with everything I remember and so much more.

  Sex with Cole was always good, but this time, this night, something about the way he takes control is making me go out of my mind.

  His hands are all over me, seducing every inch of me. He caresses my breasts, slides his hand up to my throat and encircles it, adding a little pressure as he leans up to watch my face. I struggle with the idea of being choked during sex, but he is playful, and never pushes too far.

  I feel his hands slide into my hair, closing his fists and pressing my head into the mattress as he fucks harder, faster, with more intensity. His fingers intertwine with mine, and he pulls my arms up over my head, pinning them to the bed. My body trembles and I am panting like a dog, pushing into him each time he slams his body into mine, silently begging for release. He presses his thumb against my clit and moves it in fast circles to bring me closer to the edge.

  I can feel my muscles start to tighten, a building orgasm threatening to spill over the top and drown me. He hesitates, looks into my eyes, and pushes in one last time. My body stiffens, stealing the ability to breathe, the ability to scream, the ability to move.

  My orgasm crashes into me. I raise my head up, my hands clutching his. He pulls himself up, a guttural groan coming from deep within his throat. He slams into me, his body intensifying and shaking. I hear his heavy breathing over mine as he slides down beside me and nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck.

  I roll toward him, a smile on my face. “Cole.”

  “Shhh. Don’t say anything. Just lay here with me. I don’t want this moment to end.”

  Sophie

  I wake up in an unfamiliar bed with navy sheets. The room smells of cologne and ink. I smile before I turn over, remembering the night before. I close my eyes to stretch, reaching my arms out above my head, then turn over.

  There he is: perfect hair tousled for a change, the shadow of morning stubble on his cheek. He’s still sleeping. I listen for a while to the sound of his low, husky breathing. I lean over and kiss his cheek. He smiles without opening his eyes.

  We both jump when his alarm suddenly goes off.

  Cole sits up and rubs his bleary eyes. He picks up his cell from the bedside table and frowns. “Shit. It’s after eleven.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He’s already leaped out of bed and is pulling his closet door open to pull out a shirt and pants. I sit up, pulling the covers around me, watching him go into a frenzy to get ready.

  “I have to be at a venue by noon. Another uptown wedding.”

  “Oh.”

  Cole turns back to me with his arms full of clothes and offers a regretful, apologetic smile. “A lot of people get married on Saturdays. I’m sorry, Soph. I have to go.”

  He rushes away into the bathroom, and a second later, I hear the water running.

  I hug my knees, close to tears but holding them back. You can’t begrudge him a job, Sophie. At least it’s not Sudan.

  Less than ten minutes later, Cole steps back into the room with a towel around his waist and wet hair freshly toweled. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to me. “I really am sorry.”

  I turn away from the sight and shrug. “It’s work. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “People arrange these things months, even years, in advance. You can’t let down a couple on their big day.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Plus, I have to pick up Dennis on the way—he doesn’t drive. We have to go all the way uptown.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “There’s a spare set of keys in the dresser. Take your time. Make yourself at home— have a shower, and grab breakfast. Take anything you want. I’ll call you.” He leans in to kiss me, offers one more apologetic smile, then leaves.

  I hear the door shutting behind him. I rest my head back against the pillow and swallow back tears. This isn’t how I imagined our “reunion.”

  I stare proudly at Cole, all dressed up in his best black suit for my parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I still can’t believe that he’s my husband. It’s been four weeks since we signed that marriage certificate and I became Mrs. Tanner.

  It’s been three weeks since Cole was taken onto the paper’s books as a photographer-in-house. It’s been difficult, having him appear and disappear like a Jack-in-the-box, but he promised to be here tonight, and here he is.

  I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Our first big family event as a married couple.”

  Cole grins. “It doesn’t seem real.”

  “Who knows? In twenty-five years, maybe everyone will be rolling up to our milestone wedding anniversary.”

  “I hope so.”

  I hope so, too. My family was absolutely shocked when I told them that Cole and I planned on tying the knot, and they showed up only because they loved me—and not because they supported our “impulsive decision to get hitched” in the slightest.

  Cole and I didn’t listen. We love each other, and we know that this is the real deal, no matter what anybody else thinks. Looking at him now, I’ve never been more in love. He’s so handsome in his suit, and despite our recent arguments, he’s been true to his word: not just my date to my parents’ anniversary, but my husband.

  I drive us to my parents’ house—Cole sold his car to buy new camera equipment. I’ve been his chauffeur ever since, but I don’t complain. That’s what good wives do.

  It doesn’t matter, anyway. Tonight, Cole is doing what good husbands do. I’m on his arm as we walk into the party.

  This is the first time that many of my family members have met Cole, and the only opportunity they’ve had to congratulate us on getting married.

  My aunt congratulates us with barely disguised disdain. “Congratulations, Sophie. It would have been nice to get an invite to the wedding.”

  I hold onto Cole’s arms for support and smile as graciously as I can at sour old Aunt Georgia. “It wasn’t really a wedding. We only went down to the courthouse.”

  “You could have had a proper wedding if you’d taken a little more time to think things over.”

  “We’re happy, Aunt Georgia.”

  She forces a smile. “That’s all any of us want for you, sweetie.” Aunt Georgia disappears to go and judge somebody else’s life choices.
/>   I turn to Cole and make a face. He looks equally agitated. “Jesus, I don’t have many fans here, do I?”

  “Oh, ignore her. Her daughter married a man who collects those mechanical bass that you stick on the wall. You know, the ones that sing.”

  Cole snickers. “Really?”

  “Yes. So, no matter what she has to say about you, her son-in-law is a weird fish man.”

  “Strangely, that does make me feel better.”

  “Come on. There’s bound to be someone here who’s genuinely happy for us. There’s my mom’s best friend, Hannah. She eloped, too, and she was only sixteen at the time. She and David are still going strong.”

  “I thought we weren’t using the word ‘elope’?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  We find a connection with Hannah and Dave, and start to enjoy the night. The drinks are flowing, and the speeches follow. My relatives are being won over by Cole’s charm and interesting travel stories.

  Then his cell rings. I tug on his sleeve, begging him with my eyes to let it ring out. “Leave it, Cole. Please. It’s a special occasion.”

  Cole takes the cell out his pocket and checks the caller ID. “It’s work.”

  I grab onto his wrist to stop him from answering. “I’m sure it is, but you promised me that you’d be here tonight.”

  “And I am. Let me quickly take this call, Soph. It might be about where they need me tomorrow.”

  Reluctantly, I let him go. What’s the point in working at the bank and driving him around if you’re only going to hold him back? “Fine.”

  Cole takes the call, pressing one finger into his open ear and weaving his way out of the packed room. A couple of minutes later, he returns, and before he even says anything, I can tell from his expression that I’m not going to like what he has to say.

  He holds out his hands to placate me before he even beings to explain. “Honey—”