Mastering the Marquess (Bound and Determined) by Lavinia Kent

Author:Lavinia Kent [Kent, Lavinia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780553394160
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

What now? The connecting bedchamber door swung open. Swanston wasn’t sure how much more he could take this night. He’d had several large whiskeys, trying to come down after the events of the night, and they were definitely hitting him hard. He sank to the edge of his wide bed, letting his shoulders slump.

He looked up as his wife stalked through. The first thing that he noticed was her night rail. The soft draping slid over every curve, slithering and caressing, clinging to her magnificent breasts, making it impossible for him to look anywhere else. Even in his state of exhaustion, he wanted to pull her to him and feel those tits pressed tight against his chest. The fabric was so thin, her nipples pressing forward invitingly, ready, ripe. His mouth felt dry as he imagined wetting the silk with his tongue until it grew transparent, knowing that the gentle rasp would drive Louisa to lose control. His sex came alive as it had not all evening.

She stepped forward, her breasts drawing closer.

He could feel them in his mouth, hear her little gasps …

“Where have you been?”

The clipped tone of her words did not go with the welcome of those breasts. He forced his eyes up to her face. No, there was no welcome there.

“At a club,” he replied.

“White’s?”

“No.” There was something going on here that he did not understand.

“Brooks’s? I didn’t know you were so political.”

“No. Although I do pay attention. I try to understand before I vote.” Why was he saying so much, trying to erase the tension that hung heavy in the air?

“Boodle’s?”

Perhaps he should just say yes, but he’d always made it a point not to lie. Evasion was one thing, untruth another. “No.”

“Then where?” She stepped even closer, the smell of roses filling his nostrils. Louisa never smelled of roses. He breathed in again. There was something else there as well, something warm and beckoning—unlike her eyes which bore into him like knives, awaiting his answer.

“Does it matter? I belong to several clubs.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“Why would I do that?” What was so different about her tonight? The robe, the scent, the hair—had he ever seen it down before? It rose in a cloud about her face, almost a living thing. And the color—no, colors—so richer than the dull brown he had expected.

“I don’t know. Why would you not answer? And yet, you do not.”

His cock throbbed between his legs. God, he was too exhausted for this—and yet … He’d come home wanting only to curl into his bed and sleep until dawn. Now he wanted nothing more than to grab his wife and toss her on the bed, to fuck her as he’d longed to since their wedding night.

He shut his eyes, trying to avoid the temptation she presented. She was acting the shrew, and all he wanted was to kiss those lips to silence, to grind his mouth against hers, to rip her night rail open, baring her all, to …

Control. He must find the control he so valued.

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