The Rogue You Know (Covent Garden Cubs)

by Shana Galen

  “Come in.”

  Gideon pushed the door open and halted. He’d cracked houses smaller than the bedchamber. White and pink surrounded him—pale pink walls, white curtains edged with lace, dainty furniture adorned with small vases filled with flowers.

  And the bed.

  Gideon closed the door and locked it.

  A snowy-white counterpane covered the large bed behind filmy, thin drapes that would hide nothing. White, frilly pillows formed a small mountain at the head of the bed. Gideon had never owned one pillow, much less fifteen.

  “I know it needs renovating,” said a voice. Gideon pinpointed it behind a large rectangular screen decorated with flowers. “We can decide on colors and fabrics together,” she said.

  “Right.” The last thing he would do was spend time staring at paint colors. They wouldn’t live here long enough to necessitate renovation. Besides, he rather liked the pink and white. He felt clean surrounded by white, probably because he was clean. The damned valet Derring had assigned to him had all but drowned him in the bath.

  “Take off your coat,” she said, still behind the screen.

  What was she doing back there?

  “This is your room now too.”

  He shrugged, slipped off his coat, and dropped it on the floor. Yanking off his boots and stockings, Gideon stepped onto the thick white rug. His toes burrowed into the softness. Who needed a bed when the floor was so soft?

  He wiggled his toes and clawed at the cravat the valet had given him to wear. When that was beside the coat on the floor, he shed his waistcoat and stretched. He felt almost normal again, except for his cushioned toes. He enjoyed peeking his toes in and out of the rug until he caught a movement and looked up.

  All of the blood rushed from his head, and though he tried to speak, he barely managed a grunt.

  Susanna leaned negligently against the screen, her hands at her sides, her long strawberry-blond hair down about her waist in shining waves. Her large eyes fixed on his face, and as he stared at her, the color rose prettily in her cheeks. At her neck sparkled diamonds and emeralds from a familiar necklace.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think I must be dreaming.” Gideon was proud he managed that much. Susanna wore nothing but the necklace.

  He’d seen every part of her unclothed, but never like this. Never with the white sunlight filtering through the curtains and dancing on all that pale porcelain skin.

  “Brook said he hasn’t located the necklace’s owner yet.” She ran a hand up the curve of her hip, past her small, round breasts, to the sparkling jewels at her throat. “I asked if I might borrow it.”

  “You put it to shame.”

  She smiled and started across the room, her long legs slim and shapely. “When you say such things, you make me feel bold.” She stopped before him, the rosy tips of her nipples brushing against his shirt. His hands encircled her small waist, his skin instantly warmed by her flesh.

  “I’ll say more then. I like you bold.”

  She undid the buttons of his shirt and slid it up, trailing her fingers along his abdomen as she raised the material. “I like being bold.” She dropped his shirt on the floor. “I am tired of waiting for permission, of waiting for my life to begin. I didn’t wait for you to ask to marry me.” She reached for the fall of his trousers. “And I won’t wait for you to take me to bed.” She loosened the trousers and shoved them over his hips. “I’ll take you.”

  “If this is marriage, I believe I will like it,” he murmured.

  “I like you, Husband”—she smiled at him—“though I am still not used to seeing you with your hair shorn.”

  “I look respectable.”

  “Not quite.”

  Her bare breasts pressed against his chest, their softness distracting him from her hands working his trousers down until she cupped his bare buttocks. His cock was hard and more than ready. Even though she’d always been extremely responsive to his touch, he didn’t want to rush her. He wanted this first time to last. He wanted to remember it as the beginning of his life with her, his life after the Covent Garden Cubs.

  “You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured in her ear. He pushed his cock against her belly. “Feel that? I want you.”

  “Then let me take you to bed.” She took his hand, and he stepped out of his trousers and followed her. She pulled him onto the bed until he knelt in the middle with her. With both of them naked, he forgot the social classes between them. Nothing but the two of them mattered.

  He took her mouth, cupping the back of her head and sinking his hands into all of that soft hair. She opened for him, stroking his tongue with hers and pressing her body wantonly against his. Her hands roamed his flesh, her hands fisting in his hair, her nails scraping his back, her fingertips on his belly, then wrapping around his cock. She slid her hand up and down until he had to dig his blunt fingernails into his palms to keep from ravishing her.

  Gideon lowered his mouth to her breasts, to the pale pink nipples standing so erect and so ready to be tasted and pleasured. He sucked lightly, his hands sliding down her stomach to her pelvis and her thighs. She gasped with pleasure when he used his tongue to lave the straining bud then blew cool air on the wet flesh. Her skin flushed dark pink, and he went to work on the other breast.

  “I could do this all night,” he said, circling her flesh with his tongue while she arched and her head lolled back. “I could pleasure you like this for hours.”

  “Touch me,” she demanded, and though he was already touching her, he knew what she wanted. His fingers moved in slow, expanding circles toward the junction of her thighs. The hair, slightly darker than that on her head, brushed against his fingers, and he delved inside. He was not surprised to find her wet for him. He was surprised when he parted her lips and ran a finger over the sensitive bud between them. With a gasp, she shuddered and cried out.

  He pressed against her, watching her hips move to the rhythm of the pleasure, and when she finally met his gaze, her dark eyes were bright with desire.

  “Do you know how rare that is?” he asked. “That you find pleasure so easily?”

  “How could I not?” She planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. “When you touch me, I come alive.”

  The pillows cushioned his head and left him at the perfect angle to watch as she kissed his chest and his belly. She wasn’t quite brave enough to kiss his cock, but he could see her thinking about it.

  “Next time,” he said, tilting her chin up and bringing her mouth to his. The curtain of her hair shrouded them both in a soft, dark cocoon. He guided her body until she straddled him, positioning her until the soft wetness of her core hovered just above his aching cock.

  “What now?” she asked, levering herself up. Her breasts tilted upward, the peaks like cherries on a snowy hill. The new position also brought skin to skin, and her mouth opened into an O. Her eyes grew large and dark. “Oh, I see.”

  “You wanted to take me.” He arched his hips. “Take me.”

  “Yes.”

  She slid over him, sheathing him in liquid warmth. She faltered at first, and he showed her how to move, how to find friction and ride it to climax.

  She had stamina and enthusiasm. Finally he felt her tense, and in a single movement, he rolled her under him.

  “What are you doing?” she panted, probably angrier to have her climax postponed than at the change of positions.

  “I want to see your face,” he said, linking his fingers with hers on the bed. He moved inside her, and she clenched her fingers tightly.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  “No.” He slid out, then very slowly back in until he was buried deep and thick.

  “Oh, yes.” Her hips arched as she sought more friction. “Hard, Gideon. Fast.”

  “So demanding.”

  He plunged
in hard and fast, and he watched her control waver. His was breaking too.

  “Susanna.”

  Her hazy gaze met his, and her lips curved into a smile.

  “I love you,” he said, grasping her hands tightly.

  “And I love you.”

  Hands and bodies linked by love, they tumbled into forever.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my fabulous agents, Joanna MacKenzie and Danielle Egan-Miller, for their constant, unwavering support. I am thankful every day you chose to work with me.

  Thanks to my lovely friend and assistant, Gayle Cochrane, for the myriad things you do for me and for just being there. Thanks also to the Shananigans: Kristy, Connie, Lisa, Nicole, Barbara, Patti, Ruth, Misty, Flora, Susan, Sue, and Sarah!

  Thanks to the Brainstorm Troopers, especially Margo Maguire, who sparked the idea for this series.

  Thank you to my editor, Deb Werksman; my publicists, Amelia Narigon and Morgan Doremus; and all the wonderful professionals I’m privileged to work with at Sourcebooks.

  Thank you to my friends, Amy and Emily, to whom this book is dedicated. You motivate me to get up in the morning and work hard.

  Most importantly, thank you to my husband and my daughter for all your patience and support. Thanks to Princess Galen, in particular, who happily (most of the time) shares her Flynn Rider doll and her Tangled DVD with me.

  About the Author

  Shana Galen is the bestselling author of passionate Regency romps, including the RT Reviewers’ Choice The Making of a Gentleman. RT Book Reviews calls her books “lighthearted yet poignant, humorous yet touching.” She taught English at the middle- and high-school level off and on for eleven years. Most of those years were spent working in Houston’s inner city. Now she writes full time. She’s happily married and has a daughter who is most definitely a romance heroine in the making. Shana loves to hear from readers, so send her an email or see what she’s up to daily on Facebook and Twitter. Stop by her website at shanagalen.com.

  Thank you for reading!

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