Page 99 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Despite her resolve and faith in the marquess, a shiver traipsed over her spine.
His brows dipped, and she couldn’t sort out whether his blue eyes reflected back her own desire, or a like yearning on his part.
“I’ve already told you, Anthony, I’m not afraid of you.” And ... she meant it. He did, however, unnerve her as no one had before.
His icy smirk said he knew it.
Only, he didn’t know. Not really. Not truly. Helia’s fear ... it had nothing to do with Anthony, but instead, with everything he made her feel. And if she were being honest with herself—what he made her long for. Things no good, virtuous, innocent lady should long for.
Anthony flicked his tongue over the shell of her ear, and she trembled as that whispery sough of his breath both tickled and tormented.
She wavered on her feet, and her back found purchase against the hard, muscled wall of his chest.
Then he filled his palms with her breasts and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the peaks pebbled not with cold but from a shameful desire.
“S-stop,” she croaked.
Anthony instantly ceased his stroking and extended his arms, so they framed Helia on either side.
“Is that what you really want, Helia?” He dangled forth that husky temptation. “For me to stop touching you?”
Her lashes fluttered wildly, and she gave thanks he couldn’t see her body’s reaction to him.
Shamefully, wantonly, she wanted him to do all those things he’d already done to her and with her over and over.
“Well?” he prodded seductively. “Shall I cease my caresses or give you more of what I gave you earlier?”
His thick, rigid erection prodded her buttocks.
Helia’s center throbbed, and she shifted and squirmed in search of relief from that ache.
Still, without bringing his hands in contact with any part of her body, Anthony touched his lips along the curve of her neck. Thetenderness of that kiss belied all the coldness that’d met Helia since he’d awakened.
That gentleness threatened to undo her.
Helia reflexively tipped her head to allow Anthony better access.
“Hmm?” he whispered. “What is it to be, love?”
She closed her eyes. What was it to be? Or what did shewantit to be? Helia well knew, in this instant, Anthony only used her body’s hungering for him as a means with which to distract her from a topic he didn’t wish to discuss.
Slowly, Anthony raised his arms and brought his hands closer, ever closer, to her breasts.
She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood, and then with a silent curse, she managed to find her voice.
“Aye, Anthony,” she said, not knowing where she discovered the might to resist his magnetizing pull. “Ah want ye to stop.”
He stilled; his body tensed.
He’d not expected her rejection.
But then, why should a man so skilled and capable in the art of lovemaking expect anything other than a woman’s capitulation?
Anthony placed his mouth near that sensitive spot on her neck once more. “Liar,” he whispered.
She swallowed spasmodically. Aye, he knew her in so very many ways. Helia was afraid she’d never recover when they were brought apart.
Anthony let his arms fall to his sides.
