Page 61 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

The scars were from burns, the same as those on his face and neck. They carried down across his shoulder and chest, across his upper arm and down his side. As she watched, Demon gave a short, mocking bow and slowly spun in a circle, so she could see the angry blemishes continued along his back as well, and disappeared under his belt.

Georgia swallowed the nausea which rose from imagining his pain. “Will you tell me what happened?” she whispered.

“Nay.” The answer was immediate, and she expected no less.

For a moment, she considered saying please, but hesitated. He’d given her hints, and truly, she didn’t need to know; just the fact he was willing to show her these scars said much.

But to her surprise, the man sighed and raked one hand through his now-shortened hair. “A firebomb on my train car. I was trapped under burning wreckage.”

Georgia gasped. “A firebomb?” She hadn’t expected an answer in the first place, but this was far from what she might’ve imagined. “Who would—?"

“It’s no’ important.”

It absolutely was important, but they’d come so far in the last few minutes. She would take what victories she could.

So she extended both hands to him, water lapping against the underside of her arms, and smiled with what she hoped was a seductive look. “Demon, join me.”

His expression curiously blank, he slid out of his pants and smalls, tossing them carelessly aside. The state of his chambers was beginning to make sense.

As he stepped toward the tub, she slid forward onto her knees, reaching for the edge and causing water to slosh. This resulted in him stopping short as her face halted directly in front of his hips.

In front of his hips and his delightful, delicious erection. Earlier, her mouth had watered at the feel of this, and now she didn’t hesitate.

Georgia parted her lips and took him in.

The sound he made was somewhere between a surprised grunt and a growl, his hand moving down to rest atop her head. She had expected him to hold her here as he thrust into her mouth—and in fact, as his fingers fisted her hair, her core tightened in anticipation…but he didn’t make any further moves.

Her own fingers curling around the edge of the tub, she focused on the feel of him, the taste of him. Musky, likely from the activity of the day. Just the reminder he’d tromped through nature for her, facing vicious squirrels, made her love him a bit more.

Love? Perhaps you should stop throwing around that word quite so often.

Impossible, when she was so busy loving the way his hips jerked forward as his cock slid from between her lips, as if he wanted to keep it there. Smiling, she dragged her tongue along his length, still not touching him with her hands, and drew him back in again.

As her lips slid down his length, he rasped, “Jesu Christo, Georgia.”

She could make him blaspheme.

Do not flatter yourself. This man could blaspheme because his enjoyed he morning eggs.

Did Demon enjoy eggs for breakfast?

Focus!

Thoughts buzzed through her mind so quickly Georgia couldn’t control them, nor the giggle that built in her chest and slid around his cock.

With a sudden growl, Demon pulled himself from her mouth and climbed over the edge of the tub, sloshing water about as he dropped down. She was forced to scoot to one side, but shouldn’t have bothered.

Because he grabbed her and pulled her against him—there went more water, over the side—crushing his lips to hers.

Yes! This was where she belonged!

Whatever oil he’d added to the water—he’d done that for her enjoyment?—made their skin slick, and they slid about for a moment as he shifted her first one way, then another, trying to make space for the two of them.

In fact, between the size of the tub, the way they were sliding about, and the fact he couldn’t seem to decide where to put his hands—he was a bit spoiled for choice, wasn’t he?—Georgia couldn’t seem to stop another giggle from slipping free.

Demon stilled, his hands clamped around her hips. “Are ye laughing at me, lass?”

“Certainly not.”

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