Lady Imposter: Humorous Mistaken Identities Hot Regency Novel (Steamy Scandals Book 2) by Larissa Lyons

Author:Larissa Lyons [Lyons, Larissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781949426984
Publisher: Literary Madness
Published: 2024-04-29T18:30:00+00:00

Mr. Oliver? What the devil was she up to?

Had he not suffered up to his eager-for-the-sight-of-her eyeballs? Was beyond excited for her…

The flirting had been fun.

The sexual awareness between them more explosive than gunpowder.

The lusty life firing his groin something of a revelation—when had he ever ached for any lass with such passion, such urgency?

You haven’t. Not since the first time you⁠—

Dash it, don’t go pondering the past! I seek to understand Lady Olivia.

Give it up, man. She’s a woman.

I have noticed. So?

So therein lies your answer.

Indeed.

Her inexplicable turns from Sexy Siren to Near Nun baffled.

She’d been married, according to the tittle-tattle surrounding her outrageous advertisement. Ergo, she knew about intimate matters between men and women. Why then did she take two steps toward him, then three back?

His hands flexed, keeping her in place. Gazes locked and intense.

For a man who practically had more scars than skin in places, it was a balm to his ego, a comfort to his soul, to see an alluring female staring at him so intently, and with admiration. But then, the quiver of her lip made him pause.

Part of him was roused to anger—was she one of those women who reveled in toying with men like a razor-clawed cat did with a hapless mouse?

The rest of him was just plain roused.

Because despite her vacillations twixt hot and cold, seductress and spinster, his instincts told him she wasn’t playing him for a fool, but in fact experiencing bouts of excitement and apprehension both.

Mayhap her husband had misused her? Been cruel or injurious?

Mayhap it’d simply been a long time, or she’d married young and never grew into her own.

’Twas past time he claimed her lips—if nothing beyond—and pleased himself mightily in the process.

Before either of them could dither further, Nate brought his hands up from her shoulders to cup both sides of her face. Staring into bright eyes lit with curiosity and eagerness both—and aye, a tad of fear he feared—he walked backward, bringing her with him, cursing when he stumbled over the blanket they’d dropped, but not stopping till the plank wall at his back halted his progress.

Gave him something to lean against, to steady himself.

Holding her gaze, he widened his stance and lowered his left hand, skimming it to her spine and down…down…inching along individual vertebrae until reaching the slight indentation of her waist and then—merciful heaven—fingertips just barely brushing the lavish swell bespeaking her luxurious bottom.

Her eyes flared, swept to his mouth, then back up to capture his hungry gaze. “Nathaniel, I⁠—”

“Don’t bother to protest.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Jolly good because this time, I’m damn well not stopping.”

“You’re not?” She swallowed.

“Not until both of us are satisfied. At least as much as we can be, with our clothes on, st⁠—”

“What clothes? Yours are mostly absent.”

He grunted. “Standing in a barn⁠—”

“A stable.”

“Soaked. Soggy…”

“Mmm.”

“And so damn aroused.”

“So very much,” she agreed.

He slid his right hand to her nape, threaded his fingers up along her scalp and paused.

Her shallow breaths were as quick and airy as his.

He’d wager the lust-fired electric feeling flying along his skin was matched as well.

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