Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
She wiped her hand across her nose and rolled her eyes. “Strong?” Rosamunde shook her head. “I’m the least strong person in the world. I roll over and take everything people push at me, because I wanted to be loved.”
“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you taking swings at me. Multiple times. And enjoying it.” His wink offset any of the fresh panic that swamped her.
“You told me to,” she reminded him.
“I did. Let me ask you this. Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?”
Rosamunde shrugged as she wriggled off his lap and sat on a cushion away from his tempting shelter. As she stared at him, he pushed off the seat with the ease of a big cat she’d seen once in a cage. This man was a lot like that beast. While he may be caged there was something inherently wild and dangerous about him. People may think he was tamed and under control, but that the furthest thing from the truth.
Right now, however, he poured her some of the decadent hot chocolate that had been brought in the room earlier. His hands, large and scarred, held the delicate cup as he offered it to her. The firelight glowed off bronze skin and she realized she wanted permission to touch.
Him.
Instead, she accepted the cup, curling her fingers around the vessel.
“Drink.”
He settled beside her, his thick thigh pressing against hers. Bryn leaned forward, resting elbows on his legs. She watched his fingers as he laced them between his knees. Short nails, square. Some bruising on a few of the nailbeds.
Strong hands, capable of protecting whatever he held dear—or inflicting serious injury on anyone or anything who happened to threaten those he loved.
“Cup to lips, baby. Drink, or I’ll have to come up with another way to make sure you do as I say.”
She may not fully understand this undercurrent of flirtatiousness between them, but then again, it wasn’t completely undercurrent.
The longer she spent around Bryn St. Martin the more she desired to have him be the one she got to experience pleasure with as opposed to someone she got set up with, even if they were one of his friends.
Still, there was that little devil on her shoulder that jabbed her with its pitchfork and had her asking, “Is that where you kiss me to share it? Because I’m not sure that’s a threat.”
Bryn nearly broke his fingers as her words danced around him. Taunting. Teasing. Tempting.
I’m leaving for America. I’m not the one who should show her into this world of pleasure.
“Drink, lioness.”
In his peripheral he witnessed her following his command. It was a good thing too, because his restraint with regards to her was waning. Faster than he’d ever thought possible.
Her small moan of pleasure shot desire through his blood directly to his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the strength to let this woman leave the room with her innocence intact.
When he had enough control over his erection, he turned on the cushion so he could face her. She watched him, and unlike other women he tended to run into, there was no calculation in her gaze.
He wasn’t worried about her trying to throw herself at him in a compromising position to get access to his name and wealth. Part of him hated that, because, damn it, he wanted to put her in that situation.
I need to get my head on straight.
Bryn knew he hadn’t been misunderstanding the desire he’d witnessed sparking from time to time when she watched him. Yet now she sat here watching him with nothing but acceptance.
But not of what I want her accepting.
Because the longer he spent in her presence, the more he wanted her to look at him like his parents watched each other.
“Have you given any thought to the man you’d like to learn about passion from?” It gutted him to ask, but they had a deal.
She sipped her chocolate like they were discussing the weather, no shame or embarrassment over his question, and he wasn’t sure how to take it. Had she? He sure as hell had, and it wasn’t anyone other than himself.
His jealousy surged forward and he struggled to wrangle it back under control.
She shrugged as the tip of her tongue snuck out and snagged the lingering chocolate at the corner of her mouth. “I haven’t. I thought it would be my husband. I know I’m not beautiful like everyone wishes for in a wife, but I had hoped he would be kind at least.”
He didn’t hear her fishing for compliments. This was simply how she’d been taught to view herself. Even so, he ground his jaw to keep from snapping at her for that view. He understood that this society had a certain look they believed was how people should be.