Page 40 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

Marriages in the ton were mostly ones of convenience, but very rarely did they benefit the women.

“What do you want to do, little cat?”

His voice had dropped, almost like he was pleading with her. He could not help it—his whole existence hinged on her answer. As if it would pull them back from the precipice they were teetering dangerously on.

Scarlett could never be his.

He might be a rogue. He might have the worst reputation amongst all the Wolves, but he was not going to subject her to the torment of being bound to him for the rest of her life.

They could either jump together or turn back.

She looked up at him, and he nearly reeled from the clarity in her eyes. However, it was nothing compared to the two words that tumbled past her lips the next second.

“A kiss.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

How embarrassing.

Here she was, standing before one of the most wicked men in all of London, being seduced to within an inch of her life, and he had not even touched her.

Scarlett felt the familiar tingles dancing down her spine, spreading to the very tips of her fingers and toes.

My, but he was a magnificent specimen of a man! His very profile was hard and undeniably masculine, but his lips were most decidedly sensual. His flinty gaze was cold, his eyes seemed to bore into her soul, and yet they burned with a fire that scorched her to her bones.

He was a study of contrasts, the Duke of Wolverton, and one she could spend the rest of her life unraveling.

A pity that she had until the weekend before her mama managed to foist her on another suitor.

He stepped closer to her, his face devoid of all emotion. And yet her very essence thrilled. When he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand, elation sang in her veins.

“Why must you tempt me so?” he demanded, his voice harsh.

And then he was not so very emotionless anymore.

The hand that cupped her cheek had now slipped to the back of her neck. His body, huge and hard, had pressed hers against the wall as his lips swooped in to claim her own in a kiss that set her world on fire.

Whatever she had expected her first kiss to be, it had simply been blown out of the water. With a cannon called Hudson Barrow, sixth Duke of Wolverton, Marquess of Winterbourne, Earl of Langdon…

The rest of his titles were lost on her as his lips molded to hers with hot insistence. His hands wandered boldly over her curves, strangely possessive and shockingly, delightfully intimate. One of them found her bottom and squeezed, pressing her against his heat and hardness.

Scarlett let out a slight gasp, enough for his tongue to sneak in between her parted lips and sweep all over her mouth in a bold exploration.

Dear heavens, the man did not simply kiss—heplundered.

And she gave it all up to him willingly. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with everything she had. When she tentatively touched her tongue to his, he let out a low growl that she felt between her legs.

She was already panting for breath when he released her, his forehead pressed against hers as his warm breath fanned her flushed cheeks. His eyes were closed, his brow creased into a frown.

“You should leave.” His voice was harsh. Ragged.

Scarlett felt her cheeks heat up even more. If anyone walked into the orangery at that moment, there would be no doubt as to what they had been doing.

“You mean the orangery?—”

He shook his head with a pained expression. “You should go back. I will have a carriage readied for you and the Dowager Countess.”

His words were like a bucket of ice-cold water. Scarlett instantly recoiled from his embrace.

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