Don't You Dare, My Dear (The Debutante Dares Book 4) by Charlie Lane

Author:Charlie Lane [Lane, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WOLF Publishing
Published: 2022-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

Katherine’s mind was like a piece of paper ripped in two. On the one side of the jagged edge stood the bed, welcoming if narrow, and full of carnal delights she well missed. Delights her body screamed for, each nerve ending frayed and ready.

On the other side stood Edmund, adorably mussed by her own hands, his massive feet bare against the floor, his loose shirt and trousers—tighter in the front now than they had been—promising a visual feast to enhance her memory of their first night in each other’s arms.

Tumble into bed and damn his clothes?

Or take her time undressing him as he had done her?

Decisions, choices. She liked that she had them.

None of them what Edmund clearly feared—fleeing.

She should tease him. Make for the door. See what happened.

But that would be mean-spirited, and it would delay the undressing and the bed. She’d already delayed that too long. Her steps to him also took on a halting cadence as she pondered each possibility.

She stopped directly before him, curling her fingers around the edge of his shirt. She leaned forward, a small sway of a movement that tugged his body forward by some sort of wanton magic, drawing him closer. She reached beneath the shirt, laid her palms flat, felt the sleek muscle contract at her touch, and felt the power of knowing she’d made it happen.

She kissed the hard and stubbled edge of his jaw. “I do dare, Edmund, but not what you think.” She returned her fingers to the hem of his shirt and whipped it over his head between one breath and the next, tossed it, met his eyes.

They danced. “I like that sort of daring.”

“It’s only fair you bare yourself as I have.” She trailed a finger down one side of his chest and down the pathways of his abdomen.

“Excellent point, my dear.” He had stripped himself of most his clothes while waiting for her to return, and he remained only in his trousers and his shirt sleeves and, presumably, smalls.

Her hand stopped its perusal at his fall where a dark line of hair rose. She flicked open each button, and his trousers sagged. She pushed them down, revealing the cut edges of hip bones first, then lower, the jutting head of his erection.

“Hello again,” she whispered, then lifted her gaze to his.

He wiggled his hips and shimmied all the way out of his trousers and smalls. “Pleased?”

“Almost.” She dropped to her knees, as he had with her, gripping his muscled thighs, and licked her tongue up the length of him, placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock, then stood.

“Mischief personified, you are.” His voice like sand in the throat. His body tightened and quivered.

Because of her.

He gave her power she’d never known before, and before him, she transformed from a pitiful and penniless widow to a siren, dangerous and undeniable. How could she not love a man who made her feel so?

She threw her arms around his neck, hiding her feelings in the sure strength of his chest.

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