Page 102 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

The dog gave another yip and trotted after him as he laid Scarlett gently on the bed. He tucked the covers around her and turned to leave when a delicate hand wrapped around his wrist. He looked down in surprise to find Scarlett gazing at him solemnly.

“Please stay,” she mumbled, sitting up on the bed.

I cannot, he wanted to say.I have done more than enough.

But his very soul seemed to ignite when she held him, refusing to let him go. The puppy regarded them with an expectant look before it trotted over to a pile of pillows and blankets in the corner.

Hudson heard her soft huff of laughter. “Even Snowdrop agrees. Do stay the night, Hudson. We promise we will not bite.” She bit her lower lip and looked coyly up at him. “Not unless you want me to.”

“Naughty, little cat.” He smiled. “You will be the death of me.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I prefer you very much alive, dear husband—in all the ways that matter.”

He bit back a groan as her fingertips trailed idly from his chest down, down… further down.

He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her to him. “You ask too much of me,” he murmured hoarsely.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes shining in the flickering firelight. “Only what a wife deserves from her husband.”

He groaned and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth. Claiming her.

Scarlett answered him with the same fervor, her tongue darting out to mate with his in a dance as old as time.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “See for yourself how much I long for you.”

She was an enchantress, and her words were a spell woven to ensnare him in a cage he never wanted to leave.

He expertly plucked at the row of tiny buttons at her back and impatiently pushed her gown off her shoulders to pool at her waist. Her creamy skin glowed, and in the soft light, he could see the faint shadow of her areolae through the thin shift she wore underneath. He brushed his thumb over a peak, and she arched into him with a satisfied sigh, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, taking that tight, little bud into his mouth and sucking on it. “So bloodymine.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I am yours.All yours.”

He slipped his hand under her skirts and groaned when he found her wet and ready for him. When she ground her hips against his hand, his control snapped.

“You do not know what you are asking for, wife,” he groaned. “I am?—”

Vile. A murderer.

“My husband.”

His hand stilled, and he saw the fierceness in her eyes.

“I do not care that they call you the Wolf. Or rogue or devil or whatever vile epithet they wish—you aremy husband, Hudson.Mine.”

The last word was uttered with a slight growl.

He had never found possessiveness attractive in a woman, but the sight of her passionatelyclaiminghim for herself had him on his knees.

“Then let us make sure you will not live to regret it.”

They called him a rogue. A libertine. Despoiler of innocents. The fiercest of the Wolves.

But none of that mattered to Scarlett. She wantedhim. Hudson Barrow. The man underneath those epithets.

Herhusband.

His lips found hers once more as he pushed her into the mattress. Her clothes had been discarded some time ago, and she lay completely bare before him. He, however, was still fully clothed, except for the jacket and cravat she had disposed of earlier. This would certainly not do.

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