Page 37 of Lucien's Gamble

Julienne’s eyes widened just before she laughed with delight. “Lucien Remington, you are without a doubt the most lascivious man I have ever met.”

He pressed his lips to her throat. “That’s partly your fault. You tempt me constantly, and it’s been a while since I last found any relief.”

“Shall I relieve you, darling?” she asked in a breathless whisper. “I would love to.” She gave his cock a firm squeeze.

“Jesus.” Lucien buried his face in her neck with a tortured groan. “You are perfect for me. Surely you see that.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince.” She placed her hands against his chest and pressed him backward, crawling over him with a playful glint in her dark eyes. “But allow me to give you some added things to consider.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how the sight of you at your desk makes my heart race.”

He arched a brow.

“And the way you look with your shirtsleeves rolled up.” She licked her bottom lip. “Why, it inspires positively carnal feelings in me.”

“Carnal feelings?” His eyes widened, even as his cock swelled further. Lord above, how he loved this woman.

“Yes.” Cool fingertips brushed his hair back from his face. “And your hair. I just love it. It’s thick and soft like spun silk.”

Just as she stretched her body along his, someone tried the knob and then knocked on the door. “Mr. Remington?”

“Go away!” he growled, “if you’d like to remain employed.” Lucien raised his head to capture Julienne’s lips, slipping his tongue between them to taste her sweetness.

There was a weighted pause. “Yes, sir, but Lord Fontaine respectfully requests a moment of your time.”

Julienne slid off of him in an instant. Lucien glanced at the door and saw the dark outline of his secretary through the oval-shaped watered glass.

“Good heavens! What does he want?” She glanced down at him. “And what horrid timing.”

“Fontaine is a damned nuisance,” he complained.

“Hush, or he’ll hear you.” She bent over and picked up her book. Before she could turn away, he grabbed her wrist and drew her to him, kissing her with deep possessiveness.

“Umm … Mr. Remington … sir?” inquired the secretary hesitantly.

“Give me one damned bloody minute!” he yelled.

“Of course, sir,” came the obviously shaken voice.

“What a horrid temper you have, Lucien Remington,” Julienne teased as she opened the hidden panel in the wall. She stopped before she made her way upstairs. “You know, one of these days I would like to see your home. Your taste is excellent, I would wager it’s one of the finest in London.”

Lucien ran a hand through his hair to restore some order to the disheveled locks. “Marry me, and my home will be yours.” He gestured around him. “Everything I have can be yours.”

“It’s your heart I want.” She blew him a kiss before she shut the panel behind her.

Taking a deep breath, Lucien unlocked the door and returned to his desk. The flushed secretary came in bearing Fontaine’s card, and a moment later returned with Lord Fontaine.

As the marquess entered, Lucien reluctantly admitted that the peer was a formidable opponent for Julienne’s hand. Fontaine radiated aristocratic privilege from every pore. Tall, with the light-footed grace of a predatory cat, he had an austere, golden beauty. Dressed in light taupe trousers, with matching striped silk waistcoat and brown jacket, he was an impressive sight.

Fontaine settled into a chair and glanced around Lucien’s office. “Impressive, Mr. Remington.”

“What can I do for you, my lord? I was”—he paused a moment in delicious remembrance—“wrapped up in something important.”

“So I gathered,” the marquess drawled, with caustic amusement. “I shall get to the point straight away.”

“I wish you would.”

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