Page 25 of The Viscount's Seduction
She’d not willingly spread her legs for him though, and as he squired her down the dimly lit hall she decided he’d not likely try to force her either. He’d stopped immediately upon her request, like the gentleman he claimed to be.
No, like a true gentleman of any country, his would be a sneaky attack on her virtue. She must be strong and forbearing of carnal pleasure. Not even dear Lady Jane would rescue her if she cheerfully surrendered her virtue to Bakeley.
Men’s voices on the grand staircase brought Bakeley to a sudden halt, and she collided into him. Her cheek bumped his shoulder and she uttered anoof.
He turned quickly, hooked an arm around her, and placed a finger over her lips. The voices had paused and picked up again, and she recognized Lord Shaldon’s deep tones.
Bakeley quietly opened the nearest door and twirled both of them in, shutting it without so much as aclick, turning the key. Under his fine coats, his chest rose and fell against her breasts.
Oh, heavens. The man was all muscle and lean strength, and he smelled—wonderful. Some manly perfume mixed with hints of tobacco and leather. And just a touch of the stables. Her father had smelled almost wholly like horses and whiskey, which were wonderful in their own way. But this?
His hand crept up her back, and the other—there were two wrapped around her—the other moved down, and...Oh. His hot breath caressed her ear in a longshhhhhthat sent warmth curling through her.
Voices came through the smoky fog in her brain. In the corridor, Shaldon was speaking.
She strained to hear his words, tried to discern who he was with, but thatwhooshof hot breath, like the brook near her home rushing over the boulders, swallowed the voices.
The men retreated and a door slammed, cutting them off. She unwound her arms, realizing she had been holding him as tightly as he held her.
You are a fool, Sirena.
Dim light penetrated the room through the drawn back curtains. Her eyes had adjusted and she saw the outline of a grand bed. She could make out no scattered garments, no books, no clutter of any sort. Perhaps this was an unoccupied guest chamber, and they at least wouldn’t be discovered by an occupant turning in early.
You cannot stay here with him. Get out now.
She pushed against his chest, so solid and strong, her hands itching to slide under the layers of coats.
“Well, that’s that,” she whispered. “I’ll be off.”
“Not yet.” The low masculine murmur stirred her, as did the hand traversing her bottom. The thin muslin, the delicate petticoat, the fine gloves, they were the flimsiest of barriers for his lordship’s heat.
