Rake Most Likely to Rebel by Bronwyn Scott

Author:Bronwyn Scott
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Historical
Published: 2015-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

She’d only wanted to see him again as her lover, to see if the magic was real. Part of her almost hoped it wasn’t. It would prove he was a man, as fallible, as ordinary as any other. But part of her had wanted to burn, wanted to be lit on fire once more. That part had got precisely what it desired.

And it still was not enough. Not by far.

It was as if her body was awake for the first time and, being acutely aware of that fact, it wanted to experience everything. She wanted to taste him again, feel him again. To imprint him again and again on her memory so her body would never forget what it was made for. Her eyes lit on the sideboard across the room, an idea starting to form. She rose to her feet, a little clumsy amid the tangle of clothes. Haviland’s brows drew together, perplexed. She stayed him with a smile. ‘Wait here.’

His body waited, his gaze did not. She could feel the heat of it with each step. Now that urgency had been satisfied, other wants, other desires, rose to take its place, the needs of a dilettante who wants to savour the experience, who is no longer in a hurry.

She turned, decanter in hand, her gaze perusing her lover with an intensity to match his. Just looking at him put a thrill through her blood. He was temptation personified in dishabille; his head propped on his hand, dark hair falling forward over one brow, one long leg bent at the knee. The fall of his trousers lay open, hinting provocatively at what lay beneath the loose billows of his shirttails. If he were to shift slightly to the right, perhaps there would be a glimpse, her mind thought naughtily. But, no, that would ruin the temptation. The secret was in the mystery, not the blatant revelation.

‘I was just thinking how much I wish you were naked.’ Haviland’s voice was a gravelly drawl, each word a caress. Her breath caught. It was a wickedly daring suggestion; to be entirely naked in what amounted to a public room was audacious in the extreme even with the door locked. It only took one person to try the handle to confirm that something clandestine and private was occurring on the other side. And yet, they were far enough down the hall it was unlikely anyone would come looking. The odds were probably in her favour. Alyssandra set down the decanter and reached for the laces at the back of her dress.

She let the dress fall, her gaze riveted on Haviland and his response. His body went still. There was an ottoman close at hand and she raised one leg to it, untying the garter about her thigh and rolling down the silk stocking with deliberate slowness. Haviland shifted. Even at her distance, she could see the evidence of arousal assert itself against the folds of his shirt and it pleased her. She teased with her smile and rolled down the second stocking.

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