Page 87 of Seductive Reprise
Curiosity and want were stronger than defiance, and Rose complied. She couldn’t help but sigh when his mouth alit upon her, his fingers unlacing her corset. When it fell away she realized he hadn’t spoken a word.
“My God,” he breathed, snaking a hand up her side, grazing her breast through her chemise. “The only thoughts I’ve had were of you. Wanting to see you. Wanting to feel you. I can’t… I couldn’t wait for you any longer. Not after…” He buried his face in her neck, sending a shock of lightning through her.
Rose pressed back into his chest, threw her head back against his shoulder. Her body thrummed with anticipation, an urgent need for him and only him. He made a sound halfway between a growl and a moan, and his hand slid further, softly cupping her breast.
“What else did you commission?” she breathed.
“Not yet. I’d prefer you level each and every charge you have against me first. Tell me, Rose,” he insisted, “why are you so…” His other hand began bunching up her skirts, pulling handfuls up until her legs and drawers were exposed. “So bothered?” He reached his hand around her waist, teasing her with a glancing touch over the fine linen of her underthings. Ghosting across her thighs, her sex.
Rose gasped, and pressed her legs together.
His other hand became rough and insistent, kneading at her breast.
“Is it because I tricked you?” His fingers found the slit in her drawers, tracing the line gently. “Please,God, I need to hear your voice. I need your scathing indignation, to hear every indictment you’d lay at my feet.”
She still couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but whimper as he fondled her, tormented her.
“Tell me,” he hissed, sliding his hand into the split in her drawers as he began caressing her curls. “Tell me howfuriousyou are that I brought you back to me.”
She wriggled, pushing back further into him, until she felt his hardness pressing into her bottom. Before she could even moan, his hand retreated, and she yelped in disappointment instead. Her skirts fell back into place.
Yusef chuckled, then braced her against him. “Not yet. Not until you comply.”
She strained half-heartedly against his hold.Hell and tarnation, he was strong. Heat flooded her face, her anger atbeing so inept and disheveled returning. She was trapped, her hair loose, half-dressed.
“My spirited little filly,” he crooned, reaching up to play with a lock of her hair. “I love your hair long like this.” He sighed happily, without a care in the world.
It rankled.
“I amnota horse to be broken,” she cried. “Nor am I some… some… bit of skirt you can just order about at your leisure.”
“No,” he admitted, then gently loosened his hold. Now he stroked the length of her arm with the back of his hand, from her elbows to her fingers. “Nor am I some inept cur, content to twiddle my thumbs waiting for an answer from you. In fact, I was quite busy these past weeks.”
Rose considered this, her heart thudding so loud she could hear it. It was true. Years ago she’d fallen in love with Joseph Palgrave, strong-willed and confident. How she’d wanted for his resolve, his intensity to be solely for her.
“I paid a visit to Arthur Tooth & Sons. See, they’re quite familiar with me there.”
A surge of excitement ran through her.
“They were more than happy to comply with my wishes.”
She spun away from him, her heart skipping. “What wishes?”
He smirked.
“Why, a showing. Of however many canvases I wished, but I told them it would only be one artist.”
“Yusef,” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes.
He approached her again, a look of adoration on his face. “Would you like to know who it is?” When she didn’t answer, he caught her in his arms once more. “It’s you,” he murmured against her lips.
Rose became aware of his hand upon her side, crawling about the waist of her skirt, searching for the fastening.
“I want to do it correctly, if you’ll allow me. No forcing you into accepting my charity, or Ipsley’s. I want to make a proper amends—just arrange for your work to be seen. Because if it hadn’t been for me, you may very well have had a showing already. And it’s only the start. I’ll do—or not do—whatever you wish. You need only tell me what you require. I prostrate myself before you.”
Right then and there, she knew for certain. She had fallen in love once more, this time with Yusef Ghali—a man grown, his single-mindedness and pride now tempered with a measure of objectivity and restraint. Only a smidge, perhaps, but enough.
The sudden surge of desire hit her without warning. She pulled him into her lips this time, luxuriating in the taste of him, the feel of his upper lip between hers, his tongue alongside hers. The night was late, and the house chilled, but her room now felt warm and sultry. It was so good, so easy, being with him like this, even as she was frustrated with his high-handedness. But he’d gotten her a show. Once she would have rebuffed such an offering. But now?
