Page 20 of The Villain
“Do you play an instrument?”
His deep, resonant voice caused her to flinch, her blood rushing as her skin seemed to vibrate in response to his presence. Resting one hand on the surface of the pianoforte, she turned slowly to face him, taking a deep breath and gathering her wits. Her breath came out in a rush as their gazes collided—hers wide and frightened, his feral and primitive. He leaned against the door frame, his casual posture belied by the capacity for destruction radiating from his eyes.
His hair had been pulled back and secured with a ribbon at the nape of his neck, though his attire proved downright indecent. He wore no coat, and his shirt lay open to reveal most of his chest. Coils of dark hair drew her eye, blanketing bulging muscles which made her mouth go dry. His breeches were so snug, there was no disguising the steady swell of his cock as he stood there staring at her. Despite his distance from her and such dim lighting, she could see he was only half-aroused. Even then, the masculine organ appeared as intimidating as the rest of him.
Raising one eyebrow, he smirked at her as if discerning the direction of her thoughts. “I asked you a question, Daphne.”
Shaking her head, she blinked and forced her gaze away from him, focusing on the wallpaper. “I was never any good at the pianoforte … much to my mother’s chagrin. But the harp …”
Her gaze strayed to the beautiful golden instrument, though Adam’s never left her. She could feel his gaze caressing her form, undressing her with his eyes. Her throat seized as she wondered if she would surrender her maidenhead here, on the carpet, in this music room, with the painted angels gazing down upon her.
“Would you like to play it?” he asked, straightening away from the door frame and entering the room.
The hard muscles now moved fluidly beneath his clothing and his skin as he approached her slowly, like a hunter stalking its next meal. She backed away from him until the pianoforte halted her progress. Her rear struck the keys, sending a discordant collection of notes floating through the air.
“I … I would,” she stammered. “If you will allow it.”
He paused when only a bare inch of space separated them, bracing his hands on either side of her against the instrument, his arms trapping her. She tried to hold her breath, but after a while, found it necessary to inhale—drawing his fragrance into her nostrils. Her head spun as that spicy scent of his seemed to imprint itself on her from the inside.
“Perhaps I will,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “Perhaps I will not. It all depends, Daphne.”
Lifting her chin and fighting to maintain her dignity, she met his piercing gaze with a level stare of her own. “Upon?”
“Upon what you are willing to give me in return,” he replied, reaching up to stroke the line of her jaw. “Are you ready to reveal more of your secrets to me, little dove?”
Goosebumps pricked along her skin as his touch skimmed the side of her neck, pausing over the ribbon as if in approval, then moving farther down.
“What would you like to know?”
Suddenly taking hold of her waist, he lifted her onto the surface of the pianoforte. The backs of her thighs struck the keys, filling the room with more disjointed notes. He sank onto the bench before her, their positions bringing his head level with her knees. Grasping her ankles, he gazed up at her, a wicked gleam creeping into his eyes.
“Did you choose a book from among those I sent?” he asked, tightening his hold on her legs, his large hands akin to shackles.
“I did,” she replied. “The School of Venus.”
“Ah,” he said. “The salacious adventures of the virginal Katy. Quite a … stimulating read.”
One of his hands slid up over her calf, sending a shiver down her spine. Stimulating, indeed.
“I found it interesting,” she admitted, her defenses melting away as both his palms stroked her legs, his rough callouses abrading the silk covering them.
He was doing it again, battering her defenses, tearing down her guard and forcing her to feel … to acknowledge how the pleasure affected her, howheaffected her.
“Did you?” he prodded. “Perhaps it was also educational?”
Pursing her lips, she refused to break his gaze as he slid her gown up to her knees, his fingers curling around her garters. He moved his knuckles languidly against her skin, curling his digits around the lace and ribbon-adorned garters.
“The content, thus far, is hardly shocking,” she replied, raising her eyebrows at him. “It was nothing I was not already aware of.”
Releasing her garters with a tug, he smirked when she gasped at the feel of the fabric snapping against her skin. His hands glided higher, skimming her thighs, his fingers digging in once he’d reached her hips. She stiffened, her breasts lifting as she sucked in a deep breath and it caught in her lungs.
“My little dove has been naughty,” he teased, shifting closer and wedging his broad shoulders between her knees. “Tell me, Daphne, how many men have plundered your body … and I will allow you to practice the harp whenever you wish.”
“Th-there has only been one before you,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the shame flushing her cheeks as he nuzzled her mons through her gown—reminding her that only one layer of thin fabric separated him from her.
“A lucky bastard,” he growled, his breath heating the flesh between her legs. “Did he find his way beneath your gown, like this?”
She squirmed, her breath coming out in a rush when he gave her hips a squeeze. “Yes.”
