Page 72 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
Her pulse jumped under his thumb. Fast. Nervous. Excited.
“Our marriage may be fake, Isabel, but the way you look at me isn’t. Your body gives you away every time.” He watched her pupils dilate, heard the small catch in her throat. “Some nights, I lie awake thinking about all the ways I could shut that smart mouth of yours. Maybe I should fuck it into submission.”
Those green eyes flashed. For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The distant strains of violins from the garden filled the silence.
Then she lunged.
Her mouth crashed against his. The kiss was wild and starving – more war than surrender. Like she was trying to prove something. She bit and sucked and conquered. Fighting him for control, but he was bigger, stronger, and just as desperate. Growling, he angled Isabel’s head to deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue along hers.
She bit his lip hard, and the copper taste of blood flooded his mouth. Callahan groaned. If anyone walked in right now, they’d see the Ashfords about to fuck like they were fighting. They’d see her pressed against him like she was trying to climb inside his skin.
And Callahan wouldn’t stop.Couldn’tstop. Not when she made that little sound in the back of her throat – half whimper, half demand.
Let someone see him claim her. He’d spent long enough denying himself when it came to Isabel Dumont. He wanted to drown in her, to map the terrain of her body until she was seared into his memory. Until she was all he could taste, all he could feel, the only prayer on his lips.
“Reckless,” he growled against her throat. “Impulsive. Infuriating woman.”
“Overbearing.” She clawed her nails down his back. “Autocratic. Insufferable man.”
Callahan twisted his fingers in her hair. “Do you have any idea what happens to overconfident little thieves who get caught trespassing? The consequences when they push too far and provoke the worst in the men charged with minding them?”
Isabel strained against his hold, breath coming faster. But Callahan kept her pinned in place, his next words whispered in her ear.
“They get punished.”
He spun her around and bent her over the desk. Gripping her skirts in his fist, he yanked them up, baring her silk stockings and undergarments.
She stiffened, craning her head to glare at him. “If you lay a single untoward finger on me, you uncivilised reprobate, I’ll—”
“Quiet,” he ordered. “This is a lesson in what happens to naughty girls who don’t do as they’re told.”
She squirmed. “What if Harrington comes in?”
“Then he’ll get a fine demonstration of how I deal with my troublesome fake wife.” He grazed his teeth over her racing pulse. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve imagined having you bent over for me. So here’s what’s going to happen now,Mrs Ashford. I’m going to discipline you for your reckless behaviour. Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember why we were fighting. How does that sound?”
“You’re twisted.”
“And you’re wet.” He yanked her undergarments down her thighs. “Spread your legs.”
She didn’t move.
“Now, Mrs Ashford.”
Isabel released a stuttering breath but obeyed with a stern look over her shoulder. Even positioned for punishment, she radiated the command of a queen.
This woman would break a better man than him.
Good thing he wasn’t better.
“There’s my girl,” he purred, smoothing his palm over the curve of her backside. “Tap the desk three times if my attentions become unwanted.”
Straightening, Callahan shrugged off his jacket and laid it over a nearby chair. Then he rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Now, where were we?”
The first crack of his hand against her right arse cheek rang out.
Slap.
Isabel jolted forward. “Fuck.”
