The Tutor by Hope Tarr

Author:Hope Tarr
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-06-06T04:00:00+00:00

RALPH DREW THE CHAIR NEARER to the bed, the better to watch Beatrice sleep. He shouldn’t have let her fall asleep in his bed. It was careless of him, stupid really. Now that he had, he couldn’t risk falling asleep himself. He would need to wake her in another few hours so she could slip back into her room before the servants stirred.

It was just as well. He was weary without being sleepy, physically sated without being truly satisfied. Not since he was fourteen and caught working Johnnie Black’s flash house had his emotions felt so bloody raw. He forced himself to remember that what she wanted wasn’t him, but a specific part of him, his cock. She didn’t want the complete package that was Ralph Sylvester and he couldn’t find it in him to blame her. Not even his mother had wanted him and the women with whom he’d lain over the years had only needed him for the short-term. He was too upper-crust for a woman of his own class and too sketchy for a woman who was a lady to consider as anything more than a secret lover. Why should this woman, this girl really, be any different?

And yet Bea was different, he’d always known it. Their interludes at the paddock feeding carrots to Princess had been some of the loveliest of his otherwise unlovely life.

This girl is getting to you. As always, the heckling inside his head sounded a lot like Johnnie Black.

She was. She had. He’d never wanted a woman beyond her body, beyond the pleasure, beyond the moment. Wanting more than sex with someone was unchartered waters for him. He was not only out of his depth, but sinking fast. The only plane upon which he understood how to approach her was the physical. He only hoped his body would suffice to bridge the gap, the emptiness left by all the words he dared not say. He wanted her to not just want him, but to need him. He wanted to be her food, her opium, her air. He wanted to snare her so that the breadth of her desire made it impossible to fathom ever leaving him. Not now. Not ever.

And even if he failed and she married the milksop, Ralph meant for her to wear the memory of him—his scent, his touch, his taste—like a brand.

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