Page 41 of One Night with a Prince
Her smile vanished. “The knife doesn’t count, as you well know. It’s not an item of ‘clothing or adornment.’”
“It is for me. I wear it every day.”
“As a weapon! Yousaid that weapons don’t count.”
“I’ve never had to use it as a weapon.” He unfastened the sheath and removed the knife.Come on, my sweet, let’s see that famous temper of yours.
“That doesn’t matter! You’re cheating, blast you!”
He said nothing, just laid the knife atop his cravat and unbuckled the sheath.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlShe shot to her feet. “You’re not playing fair! I demand that you take off your drawers!”
Placing the sheath on the cravat, he straightened. “No.”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. “What? But you have to! Those are the rules!”
He shrugged. “I interpret them differently.” He descended the dais, adding in a provokingly snide tone,
“Now sit down and deal the cards like a good little girl.”
She flushed. “I will not! I won, fair and square, and you know it. So take those drawers off this instant!”
He walked up to the table, waiting until he was in reach of her, before murmuring, “Make me.”
Chapter Nine
If you do not intend to share your lover’s
bed on a particular visit, make your wishes
known immediately, even if you
must suffer his foul temper for the rest
of the evening.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
How dared he! After he’d made her send Rosa away and insisted that she play fair—“Take off your drawers, Byrne,” she demanded.
“Make me,” he said again, cool as you please.
She saw red. Ooh, that was so like a man—to cheat, then assume he’d get away with it!
With an oath, she strode up to him and seized the band of his drawers. “I’ll take them off of you myself, I will.”
As she worked loose the top button, the fabric began to bulge beneath her hands. That’s when her good sense finally kicked in. She jerked her hands back, but he caught one and flattened it against his half-buttoned drawers…and the erection beneath. His very solid, very dangerous erection.
“Go on,” he said in a guttural voice. “You want your winnings, don’t you?”
Her gaze shot to his, but that proved a mistake. Because his expression of rampant need was the last thing she saw before his mouth crushed hers.
Like a mare cornered by a stallion, she realized the danger only when it was too late. Curse her unruly temper. And curse him for taking advantage of it, for thrusting his tongue so deliciously between her lips, for making her forget why…she…ought…to resist…
And now his hand was sliding hers inside his drawers to cup the heavy length of him, and her gut was knotting in a welter of fear and excitement actually to be touching it. Him. His flesh. Dear Lord in heaven, she must be mad. Yet her hand moved of its own accord, stroking, caressing—
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Yes, lass,” he whispered against her lips. “Yes, like that, yes…”
