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A frustrated sound escaped her throat, which was much more arousing than it should have been. In the circumstances, he should not be getting aroused at all.
She undressed efficiently and entirely without self-consciousness, as if his opinion mattered as little as a chair’s. Once naked, she made no attempt to conceal herself, but stood tall and straight. Bloody hell. Arabella, naked in his drawing room. Her body was a breathtaking gallery of angles and curves, light and shadow, with the candlelight gilding the dark curls between her thighs, her pink nipples, the moles scattered over her skin like stars. His daft body responded helplessly. He had to remember to swallow, to breathe, to unclench his greedy, eager fists. And as for his cock… Well. He was in close proximity to a naked woman; no surprises there.
She perched on the edge of the oversized daybed, hands folded as if waiting for tea. “Now what?”
Good question.
“Take down your hair,” he ordered her.
“It is too difficult to pin up again. I must leave here looking as I did when I arrived.”
“You should leave now.”
“I shall leave when we have concluded this business.”
Bloody hell. What did a man do with an attractive and apparently willing woman, when his only aim was to make her admit she was wrong? He would not go through with this; of course he would not. But neither would he give in first.Thatwas what mattered most: to watch her famous composure crumble, to compel her to scuttle away and never make demands of him again.
He was on the right track: Her shoulders were stiff, her muscles tense.
If her own nudity did not frighten her, then surely his would.
“Have you ever seen a naked man, Arabella, a virile young man? You may find it a fearsome sight to behold.”
“I shall make every effort to be impressed.”
Chuckling at her nonsense, watching her watching him, Guy slowly slipped his dressing gown off his shoulders, the silk and velvet pooling on the floor. Next was his shirt, tugged over his head and tossed at her. Impatiently, she flung it aside, and watched as he dispensed with his remaining clothes and presented himself.
Her gaze roamed over him; he fancied it a hot blue like the center of a flame, singeing his chest, his waist, his hips. With surprising boldness, her eyes lingered on his cock, which preened under the attention. Desire spread helplessly through his blood. He was vain enough to hope he impressed her, with this body forged by years of adventure, long marches and short skirmishes and heavy lifting. He had worked his body hard, and it had served him well, and if any women enjoyed the result, he would not object.
“You’re all muscle.” Her breathiness rippled over his skin.
“That’s not what I call it,” he said, and, with deliberate crudeness, wrapped one hand around his eager, upright cock.
A small mewl escaped her mouth. He took one step toward her, and another. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. Her breath caught.
She was troubled, unquiet. Good.
“Lie down,” he said.
She didn’t move.
“So you’ll be leaving, then.”
Her shoulders flinched, and she slid up the daybed with sinuous grace. Guy placed his knees on either side of hers and crawled over her length until their faces were level. He moved slowly, to give her time to escape. Time, too, for her scent and warmth to curl over his skin and take possession of his senses. Stars above, but she was lovely, her body a carnival of angles and curves that his fingers and mouth longed to explore.
He would not. He could see to himself later, after she had fled.
“Now,” he murmured, his mouth inches from her own, “are you ready to be ravished?”
One of her legs knocked against his own and bounced away. She would not last long, if she could not bear to be touched.
“No need for a ravishing.” Breathiness undermined her attempt at hauteur. “If you would simply proceed to—”
“Oh, Arabella, sweetheart, have you learned nothing about seduction? No, no, no.”
Shifting his weight to one arm, he splayed his other hand over her chest. His fingers nudged her collarbones, and the heel of his hand savored the warm swell of her breasts. The incongruous sight of his rough, tanned fingers against her delicate skin and fine bones was unexpectedly arousing, and he fought the urge to traverse those few desperate inches and palm her soft breasts. She trailed her eyes along the length of this arm. He shifted so his cock brushed against her. She gasped, jerked, lay still. He nipped her ear; again she jerked and gasped.
“I don’t think you’re ready yet.” He traced lazy patterns over the no-man’s land between her throat and breasts. “Whatever shall I do?”
