Page 68 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

They stood there, glaring at each other. And then she saw his hand before her.

“Come here, little cat.” His voice was low. Magnetic. Its timbre skittered down her spine and set her on fire.

Against her better judgment, she recognized the familiar heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Oh no. No, no, no.No.” She took a step back. “You do not get to tell me what to do,Your Grace. You cannot just toss me aside and then act like a jealous lover the next!”

Her voice was rising hysterically, and shehatedit.

Hated how he could so easily affect her.

“You do not get to tell me what to do,” she told him. “Not aftereverything.”

“But that is where you are wrong, little cat,” he replied softly. “As long as you are here, you are mine.”

His. Her breath hitched in her throat.

How absolutely sublime. How laughablydangerous.

She could not be his any more than he could behers.

She lifted her chin. “I can dance with whomever I want,” she told him daringly. “Even if it is with the Marquess of Colton.”

“I do not care if you wish to dance with the bloody devil himself,” he warned her. “Unless you want their blood on your hands, you will refrain from such foolishness.”

Foolishness? Scarlett wanted to laugh. Foolishness was standing here in a gazebo, within an arm’s length of an infuriated Wolf. Foolishness was following him out of the ballroom simply because he told her to do so.

Foolishness was still believing that there wassomethingbetween them. Something worth riskingeverything.

Clearly, she had failed to learn her lesson, but Scarlett never made any pretense at brilliance. With Hudson, she was willing to be stupid over and over andoveragain.

Even then, at what point was enough truly enough?

He was livid, of course. That was a given. Livid enough to actually break the damn glass Daniel had warned him about before interrupting her little dance, her little act of defiance.

She had disobeyed and thwarted him at every turn, and as if that was not enough, she seemed to inordinately enjoy flinging her willfulness into his face as well.

So,yes, Hudson was angry.

Butneedanddesperationhad been gnawing at him for days, too, and the combination of all of that made for the most volatile concoction known to man. In short, he was now a volcano on the verge of eruption. Quite literallyVesuvius.

And right now, she was like Pompei, standing in the way of all that rage and heat.

He felt the throbbing insistence between his legs and suppressed a groan. He would want nothing more than to be buried so deep inside her he would leave his mark on her.

So maybeeruptionwas not the right word he should be using.

He took a step forward, and this time she stood her ground. This close, he could see her trembling. Was she afraid of him?That was understandable, but her bright blue eyes flashed in the moonlight without a trace of cowardice.

He could not help but smile at his mistake. Of course, she would not cower before anyone. Not even him.

He reached out, and his hand slid around the nape of her neck, his fingers digging into the elegant coils of hair her maid had painstakingly arranged for that night. Something deep and primal roared within him, and his grip on her tightened.

Mine, his body screamed.All. Mine.

“Hudson…”

His name escaped as a whimper. A soft plea.

---