Page 197 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

And god help her, but she’d just recklessly wagered everything on the possibility that they would suit. That maybe these years of rubbing each other the wrong way were a prelude to something so explosive and good it would be worth it.

She’d felt her stomach dip precipitously when she’d drawn the long straw in their first round. Her younger self had suddenly been yelling at her. He was attractive. He’d always sought her out. And when they’d first met, maybe she had misinterpreted everything?

And if she was honest with herself, when he’d pushed her against the door and said if anyone was going to marry her, a thrill had overwhelmed her.

That possessive demand had awoken something in her that had responded,yes. Yes.

Att stood abruptly and strode over. She found herself on her feet, his hands at her waist before she could say anything. Then he dipped his head and kissed her. As their lips met he let out a groan of relief and whispered, “Tam.”

This kiss didn’t start softly. No tentative brush. Att’s mouth demanded, and she gave. Her lips parted and he took the invitation, his tongue plundering and tipping her head back with the force, making her lean back onto his closely braced arms at her sacral dips.

The tilt—or perhaps his arms, brought their hips flush and there was an unmistakable heated bar.

She hadn’t ever done this before, but she was a doctor. That engorged member was a sign of desire.

Att wanted her. He was aroused. Maybe it was futile. Maybe it would be short-lived. But right now, he’d said they’d see if they fit, and she’d do everything to help him think they did.

Their kiss was hungry, both of them asking and taking. The feel of Att’s mouth on hers was sweet and filthy, his tongue stroking against hers and around her lips. He skimmed his hand up her body, pausing to press her breast, then up, caressing her shoulder.

Then he was holding her as his mouth wandered, dragging down her neck.

“So beautiful,” he murmured onto her skin. “So sweet.”

He dragged down the bodice of her gown and took one nipple into his mouth. All thought melted into pleasure. She’d never touched her breasts like that, never thought to even when she’d felt hot and achy between her legs and rubbed herself there. But the pleasure was a spike that went right down to her sex. She grasped at his head, tightening her fingers in his hair, holding him.

He hummed and she felt him smile as she held him to her, urging him on. She didn’t know how she ended up on the bed; he must have nudged her until she moved. But then she was lying on her back and he was over her, knees either side of hers.

She cried in protest when he shifted his attention away from her chest.

“Mm, don’t worry sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you,” he crooned.

And maybe it was the idea of someone else taking responsibility when she had so many—her doctor training and patients, the fate of her whole family—but when he grabbed a handful of her skirts and looked into her eyes for approval as he dragged them up her legs, she nodded. She was his doll as he untied her drawers and slipped them down, allowing him to undress her. He left kisses and compliments wherever he revealed another inch of flesh and it was intoxicating.

Naked from the waist down, her bodice pushed to expose her breasts, she ought to feel ashamed or bad, but couldn’t help but simply desire more. Her nipples were pebbled and her quim heated and wet, so slippery.

Had his eyes always been this dark? She couldn’t remember and in the warm glow of the fire and candles, everything was soft and otherworldly. There were no consequences here in this room. There was just him, and her, and a bet that they both had wanted him to win, to see if they suited.

She reached for his trousers and he caught her hands in his. “Uh-uh. Not yet.”

“I’m sorry to break this to you, but you need to have at least a certain part of you exposed for this.” The words were light, and easier than admitting she wanted to see him.Hadto see him now.

“Medical school might have taught you anatomy, but it didn’t teach you love, Tam. Spread your legs.”

She pinched her eyebrows together in confusion. “But…”

“There was some question about whether I wanted you.” He settled himself, kneeling between her feet, and grasped her thighs. With slow deliberation, he pushed them apart. “And I’m going to show you that I don’t need any more of me exposed for now than my mouth.”

“But…”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Tam. Trust me on this. I’m going to taste you and you’re going to love it.”

It wasn’t just the tip of her tongue that had words she might almost say. Her whole mouth was full of them. Her tongue was piled with phrases that expressed her frustration and need and an embarrassing amount of fear that if she didn’t see him now, this time, she might never and that was unacceptable. He’d find her wanting, of course he would, and then she’d never know what he looked like under those neat and refined clothes.

He leaned down and breathed onto the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Let me control this, Tam. I’ll make it good, I promise.”

A promise by a man who had only ever deliberately irritated her. But nevertheless, she trusted him. She was as reckless a gambler as her father.

“That’s it,” Att whispered as she allowed him to push her onto her back, slightly propped up on pillows. “You’re deliciously wet, Tam.”

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