Page 60 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

His hand rested atop the bulge in his trousers.

The memory of the feel of that bulge—his desire—in her hand triggered a flood of saliva in Georgia’s mouth. She’d wanted to taste him, wanted to bring him to his pleasure.

He has been using your body for weeks. You have brought him pleasure.

The thought didn’t shame her, but made her squeeze her thighs together to try to ease the growing ache.

“Are you going to sit there and watch, Demon? Why not join me?”

“Nay.” The denial was immediate, the word harsh. Warning her not to argue.

But she was going to argue. Georgia wanted him—wanted to give him pleasure—enough to push the topic. “Why not? The water would feel wonderful after all the climbing and cutting you did this morning, and I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Instead of answering, Demon unbuttoned his pants—while holding her gaze—and slipped his cock free. It jutted, hard and thick, from its nest of dark hair, and he wrapped his hand around it, as if daring her to be shocked.

She wasn’t shocked. Her tongue darted across her lips, and she did her best to hold his gaze, not to drop hers to the delicious sight of him pleasuring himself.

Under the water, her palms found her breasts, and she cupped them the way he might.

When his gaze flicked downward—what could he see, beneath the surface?—she grew bold. “Join me, Demon,” she quietly coaxed. “What are you afraid of?”

“Dinnae do this, Georgia.” His growl was one of warning, his palm sliding up and down his cock at a leisurely pace. “I plan to watch ye bathe.”

Was it her imagination, or was he wavering in his determination?

Georgia sat up, water cascading from her shoulders, and reached for the pins holding her hair in place. Her breasts were exposed now, and when his gaze dropped to them, she felt a surge of victory.

“I can do nothing you do not want me to do, Demon. I belong to you until Hogmanay.”

The motion of his hand stilled, his very breathing seeming frozen, only his eyes moving as he watched her slowly pulling the pins from her hair.

When the mass of curls fell down around her shoulders, the ends dropping into the water, Demon sucked in a breath.

“Hogmanay,” he murmured, as if unable to process the thought.

Georgia forced herself to ignore the way her stomach clenched at the thought of her father’s debt being discharged resulting in her return to London. When she arrived at Endymion and made this bargain, that day seemed so far away…but now it approached far too quickly.

Swallowing, she forced her attention on this seduction. “Demon.” His gaze snapped back to her face, and she lowered her hands to her breasts again. “For now, these do belong to you. Do not deny yourself.”

“I’m no’.” His voice was hoarse, and there was—was that fear in his pale green eyes? “I’m watching ye, am I no’? Take yer bath, Georgia.”

A bargaining chip came to mind.

She smirked wickedly. “If you do not climb into this tub with me, my lord, I will take the most uninteresting bath in the history of womankind.” Her tone grew threatening, when in reality she was struggling to keep from giggling. “It will be quick, and full of scrubbing instead of fondling. All the interesting things will happen below the surface of the water, where you cannot see. You will be utterly bored, and very likely disappointed by the mundane nature of my bathing habits. Armpits are not erotic.”

Demon’s nostrils flared. “Minx,” he growled. “Ye’re threatening me?”

“Consider it a bribe.” She allowed her smile to bloom. “If you do join me, I promise this bath will be far from boring.”

It was impossible to tell what had changed his mind. But in one swift movement, he pushed himself to his feet, his cock standing proud. “On yer own head be it,” he snarled.

In short, angry movements, his fingers worked the buttons of his waistcoat, then his shirt. In one violent motion, he stripped them both from his shoulders and threw his arms out to his side, displaying himself—his scars—to her.

They were…horrible. Angry. Vicious. Just like him.

Georgia wanted to show him they didn’t matter to her, but it would be impossible to pretend she didn’t see them. He wanted her to see them. This was the first time he’d removed his shirt for her, in all their times together.

So she allowed her gaze to drop to his torso, allowed herself to really see, really understand, what had happened to him.

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