The Devil's Good Girl
Chapter 177: Latrice III

Chapter 177: Latrice III

’I cannot want you.’

Jackson’s thoughts trailed off when he sensed her raise a hand. He grabbed her wrist on instinct, his eyes blazing menacingly as part of his instinct. When she flinched at his action, he snapped back to the current lapse.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he breathed out in a low growl.

"Showing you what I learned today," she answered with a small frown. "Madam Windsor told me there’s a way to make pain feel less painful. She said it works."

"I’m not in pain."

She blinked and blinked, and even without saying anything, he folded. Jackson slowly released her wrist, letting her do what she planned to do. His brows knitted and his body tensed up when she slowly touched his cheek.

"Stop," he urged when he figured out where her thumb was going. "Get out."

"People who are in pain say hurtful things because they are in pain," she argued softly, not listening to him as she caressed the scar on his lips with her thumb. Her eyes softened and, for the obvious reason, his shoulders also relaxed.

"It’s hideous," he blurted out, watching her eyes hold his. "Are you not disgusted by it?"

"Is that what Your Grace always thought?" she chuckled.

"Am I wrong?"

Latrice maintained her charming smile, gazing at the big scar on the corner of his mouth. "You’re beautiful, Your Grace. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen in my life. The only reason I do not like about this scar is it brings you pain."

"If only I could take it away," she whispered, standing on her toes as she moved her face closer. "I would give anything in the world just to see you smile."

Jackson held his breath, watching her face come closer and closer. When her lips touched the corner of his lips, his entire body froze, wide-eyed. Latrice planted a long and soft peck on the side of his mouth before she drew her head back.

"Does it hurt less now?" she asked so innocently with eyes brimming in anticipation. "Should I do it again?"

Since he wasn’t answering and just stayed there like a statue, Latrice planted another peck on the side of his mouth. Pulling her head back and looking at him, she was about to do it again. But this time, he held her shoulder to stop her.

"That’s enough," he breathed out. "I am not a child and something like that won’t make me feel —"

"Then what would make you feel better, Your Grace?"

His breath hitched, squeezing her shoulder slowly. He mentally screamed at himself, telling himself not to go there. He mentally shouted not to cross the line and he would be making a big mistake. After all, she would never be his. The only reason she was in the South was to make everyone believe she was a noble who was worthy of the title of a crown princess.

But alas...

Jackson cupped her face and tilted his head a little to the side. He moved his face to claim her lips, only to freeze before his lips could touch hers. His eyes veered to hers, and much to his surprise, she was staring down at him with a short smile.

That very second, he figured she wasn’t as innocent as everyone thought she was.

"You were seducing me?" he asked in disbelief.

Latrice smiled until her eyes squinted. "I did not want you to feel guilty for exploiting the innocent," she quipped. "Though I meant it when I said I want to make you feel better and take your pain away."

Jackson should’ve pulled away that second he realized she was manipulating him. But he didn’t. Instead, he moved his face closer and fell for her seduction. He claimed her lips, deluding himself that even for a moment, she was his.

Latrice welcomed him with open arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. She let his brawny arms circle around her, carrying her by the waist. Before she knew it, her back bounced on the soft mattress with the duke hovering over her, and restraining her within the confined of his arms.

She smiled at him, cupping his face gently. "You are truly beautiful, Your Grace."

His eyes blazed with excitement, repressed desires, and lust. The duke reached for the strings of her chemise, pulling it away with anticipation. All his efforts to stay away from her were thrown out the window. Now, all he could feel were the chains he placed to restrain his inner beast, breaking like crackers.

All he could think about was the wonders underneath the fabrics on her body. His eyes fell on her slightly exposed chest, mouth falling as he felt how she was so within his reach. For a long time, he only watched her from a distance, but now, all he wanted was to keep her confined in his embrace. For one last time, Jackson warned himself to stop.

But he didn’t listen.

Instead, he bent over and claimed her lips, squeezing her thigh and crawling his hand underneath her skirt. Nothing else mattered to him, spellbound. The fabrics around them continuously fell out of the bed, his hands touching her everywhere he wanted and she let him, even guided him, moaning his name as if that was only the word she knew.

And for a moment, he felt that they had become one in heart, one in soul.

*

*

*

Laying flat on the bed, Jackson stared at the ceiling vacantly. He looked to his left, only to see Latrice sleeping soundlessly in his arms. A deep breath escaped him as he looked away.

’Last night was a mistake,’he told himself. ’It shouldn’t have happened.’

And he shouldn’t make the same mistake again.

He succumbed to his weakness last night, taking the woman the crown prince had set his eyes on. It was a betrayal punishable by death. The crown prince trusted him to take care of her, but that didn’t include bedding her. Now, he was doomed.

’Once she wakes up... things will go back to normal,’he told himself. ’It wouldn’t happen again.’

He repeated that like a mantra over and over until he thought he was fully convinced last night was a mistake. But after minutes of hard work of convincing himself, Latrice moaned and opened her eyes. The second she saw him, her lips curled up in relief.

"Your Grace." Her voice was coarse, but her purple eyes shimmered more beautifully than the morning dew. She moved closer to him. "I thought you left."

"It’s my quarters," he said coldly, staring at her while telling himself to tell her about last night. But before he could, Latrice moved her head up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Last night was not my mistake," she said, relaxing her head on his shoulder again. "Neither it was yours."

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