Page 58 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

Oh.

Demon always seemed so uncaring what others thought. It was hard to believe the man was ashamed of his own appearance. Why would he be? Certainly, there were scars, but he was a fit man—deliciously fit, if anyone asked her—otherwise. Why, just the sight of those sinewy forearms made her remember the way he’d held her above him that night in the library…

Unbidden, her gaze flicked to the bed. It is already pre-rumpled. She could unbutton her gown and climb atop the counterpane, and remind him he really was a desirable man.

You sound like a hussy, ready to spread your legs for him. Do you forget why you made this bargain?

Of course she did; to help Father. To make it possible for Danielle to have the respectable love match she deserved. To keep the Stoughton name respectable.

Yes, but you are certainly enjoying yourself otherwise.

“So desperate, are ye?” he growled. When her gaze shot back to him, he was studying her expression. “Or is that worry? Ye dinnae want me to touch ye—”

“I do,” she blurted, then dropped her gaze to the shears in her hand so she didn’t have to look at those achingly beautiful eyes. “I mean, if you wish to.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, he was there, taking her free hand in his. It was a reminder of their conversation in the snow this afternoon…

Right up until he pressed her hand against the insistent bulge in his trousers.

“I always want ye,” he murmured.

Oh.

Oh my.

Her gaze locked on the button of his shirt, so near to her, as her fingers circled his length. Even through the wool of his trousers, she could tell he was ready for her. Ready to take her.

Perhaps he had missed her, these last days.

Georgia swallowed, finding it suddenly hard to find her voice. All thoughts of bantering with him vanished, aware as she was of her own pulse pounding in her ears.

And between her legs, liquid desire was already seeping through her bloomers.

Yes.

Yes, please.

Her fingers tightened. She wanted him. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist as he plunged into her. She wanted to break another piece of furniture. She wanted to capture his lips with hers as she came.

She wanted to taste him.

Slowly, hesitantly, Georgia drew her gaze up to meet his. How did one ask that sort of thing? “Demon, I—”

He captured her lips with his, and she sagged against him, pleased to not have to speak. Instead, she tried to show him what she wanted. Her tongue met his, thrust for thrust, while her hands grasped for him.

“Christ, Georgia,” he gasped as he pulled away. “I had plans.” But then Demon’s lips found her temple, her ear, her jaw. “I wanted to watch ye bathe. I was going to fill the tub with steaming water and invite ye in.”

She’d tipped her head to one side to allow him better access, even as he cupped her breasts through her gown. “That sounds—” She broke off with a moan as he nibbled at her skin. “Yes, Demon. A bath—heaven. Please.”

Goodness, forming coherent thoughts was difficult when the man one loved was tonguing your—

Love?

Georgia stiffened, her eyes flashing open.

She didn’t love Demon. She was only at Endymion because Father needed her to be. Because her sister needed her to be. To be sure, she was enjoying her end of the bargain, but….love?

Demon hadn’t noticed her distraction. “Then a bath ye shall have,” he declared, pulling her against him once more for a hard kiss, then stepping away. With his trousers tented in front of him, he strode toward the open door where he’d fetched the shears. It must be a bathing room.

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