How to Marry a Bad Boy by Shannon McKenna

Author:Shannon McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-07-13T12:37:57+00:00

Eleven

Eve had half hoped that he’d sweep her off her feet and expertly ravish her on the spot, but he did no such thing. He just stood there, eyes burning with emotion.

“Are you sure?” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Yes,” she said. “Life is short, and I’m going for it.”

The energy buzzing between them was more exciting than any lover’s touch she’d ever felt.

“How do you want this to go?” he asked.

“You are the last person in the world I would ever have expected that question from,” she said. “Marcus Moss, famous Don Juan, with all the slick moves?”

“You keep throwing that in my face,” he said.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I talk too much when I’m nervous.”

“I’m nervous, too,” he said. “I don’t have any moves. I feel like a clueless teenager with you.”

She couldn’t help wondering if his intensity, his uncertainty, were acts meant to put her at ease. If so, they worked like a charm. It made her want to soothe and reassure him. Make him feel utterly welcome.

Who knew. Maybe it was a line, maybe it wasn’t, but she might as well let his clever magic work on her without fighting it. It was all part of the game.

“One thing you could do would be to unfasten these damn buttons for me,” she suggested. “They’re as hard to manage now as they were in the beginning.”

“I’m on it,” he said.

She turned her back to him, and found herself right in front of the mirror, looking into his reflected eyes.

It was a shock to see herself that way. She shone from the inside, her parted lips hot red, her cheeks flushed. The ruby glowed at her throat. The bodice showcased her breasts. That billowing skirt was from a princess in a fairy tale, ready to run away on bare, vulnerable feet. Her naked toes were curled into the carpet fibers, trying to anchor herself so that she didn’t waft away like a Chinese lantern.

She shook her hair forward as Marcus started in on the buttons. The corset bodice was closed by hooks and eyes. He tugged at the bodice, just enough so that her nipples poked over the pleated red frill at her décolletage. Her nipples were puckered and tight. Her breath came fast. The effect was intensely erotic, like a painting of a seventeenth-century brothel. The handsome aristocrat, taking his pleasure with his chosen courtesan.

Marcus made a tormented sound in his throat and swept her hair to the side to kiss her neck. Whimpers of pleasure felt wrenched out of her. She pressed against him, eager to feel the hard bulge against her bottom. She shook with excitement.

He scooped up big armfuls of her skirt and stroked his hands along her thighs. He lingered at the bare skin at the top, stroking the thin film of her panties while he nuzzled and kissed her neck. She moved against his hand, squeezing her thighs around it, making those sounds that she could not control. He stroked her breasts with exquisite skill,

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