Page 52

You are a wanton woman, Evaine Ballard, she scolded herself, but the words were far away, locked in the rational part of her brain that could still access language. The rest of her had been reduced to a puddle of desperate need.

Gareth braced himself on his forearm and dragged her skirts up with his free hand. She couldn’t reach his cock this way.

“We can’t…” she blurted out, but then his hand found her thighs and her objections died on her lips. His eyes were bright-blue rings around depthless pools of black. His mouth quirked up in a knowing smile as his blunt fingers found the slit in her combination.

“You were saying, my lady?” He stroked her wet center. Evaine writhed. She gripped his forearm, whether to stop him or to impale herself on his blunt fingers, she couldn’t quite decide. He remained teasingly where he was. Tempting her with slow, gentle strokes. “Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head. “Keep going.”

Gareth lowered his lips to hers and delved into her wet folds. She clung to his shoulders. He was her breath, her body. She wanted to tear his clothes off. Her own, too. She knew that if she did she would be making a mistake—again. That she was a bad, wicked woman who didn’t deserve good things in life because she could not keep her skirt on straight.

Coming out here to the countryside was the best thing that could have happened to a woman like her. London was too full of temptations. Except that the city had followed her here in the form of one unconventionally attractive duke.

He dipped his fingers into her passage. They both groaned in unison.

“God, Evaine, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he muttered. Because she was bad and wanton and wicked, and she loved the way he touched her.

Since there was no cure for a woman afflicted with lust for a man—no hope, either—she flicked open his trouser buttons and slid her hand inside his pants. His eyes shuttered. She squeezed his hard, hot shaft.

“We’re not…taking this all the way,” she said as firmly as she could muster, though it came out too breathy to be convincingly assertive. He could press her into having sex with him right here, right now, and she wouldn’t feel the pinch of regret until they left the room. But all she wanted, for now, at least, was to touch him the same way he was touching her.

Gareth made a sound. Half scoff, half wheeze.

“I wouldn’t sink so low as to deflower you on an old mattress in an abandoned house, Evaine. I may be a monster but I have standards.”

She huffed an airy chuckle. “I don’t. Clearly.”

Bafflingly, tears sprang to her eyes. He kissed her temple. Her cheek.

“You wouldn’t be deflowering…” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “It wouldn’t be my first time. If we were to take it that far.”

“No?” Gareth seemed surprised but not shocked.

“I assume it isn’t yours, either,” she said tartly. He grinned and pressed two fingers inside her in retaliation.

“Far from it,” he growled. Sudden jealousy flared through her.

“Gran was right then.”

“About what?” He studied her smallest reactions.

“About you having no trouble attracting women despite…these.” She trailed her fingertips down his scarred cheek. With the other, she kept gently stroking his thick, veiny shaft, reveling in the way he filled her hand.

“I do, in fact. But I’d rather not dwell on it. I have better uses for my mouth.” He bent his head and captured her exposed nipple between his lips. A silent war commenced. He steadily drove her higher, using his tongue and his talented fingers, until a wave of pleasure broke over her and Evaine bit his shoulder to not cry out too loudly. He tasted of starch. Rough and dry on her tongue.

“Your turn,” she said when she could breathe again. Gareth shifted obligingly onto his back, giving her ample space to stroke him.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded.

“Now?”

“I’m the one with your hand on my cock, Evaine. Clearly, the story ends happily for me and unhappily for this lover of yours. So yes, let me feel smug in my victory and tell me all the details.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Nothing exciting or even surprising. I met a man at university. A student at the men’s school. He courted me for weeks. He was the younger son of a peer. I knew that he could give me a life I badly wanted. Honestly, it doesn’t speak well of me, but that was half the attraction. I was so tired and scared. This was when Gran’s illness was at its peak. He made me feel as if he could make my problems disappear. I could take care of Gran, stay in school…I genuinely believed he was sincere when he said he wanted to marry me.”

“Let me guess. He was a bounder.” Gareth curled his large hand over hers and showed her how to pump his cock more firmly. She adjusted, and he let go once he was satisfied with her touch. She swirled her thumb around the head of his cock and felt his answering shudder.

“He threw me over for a girl in his own social set a few weeks later. “