Page 541 of From Rakes to Riches

A mean, little note of triumph sounded in her voice, even as she knew she was walking the sharp edge of a razor. She’d surely gone too far. The air was ripe with that knowledge. And yet…

She experienced the sudden, almost irresistible, inexplicable urge to rush forward and kiss him again. A willful energy flowed through her and demanded a very specific release.

His lips against hers…the rigid press of his body…

It was, to be sure, a very naughty energy.

Because if she started kissing him again, she wouldn’t stop until she’d had him.

Allof him.

A hot, liquid feeling melted through her at the remembered feel of the hard length of his manhood pressed against her.

She needed to leave.

Now.

As she turned, an object on the carpet caught her eye. The leather strip she used to tie her hair back. Without thinking, she bent to retrieve it. When she attempted to straighten, her back decided it wasn’t having it as all the muscles seized, instantlylocking her into place. A cry escaped her, as she froze, bent over like a two-hundred-year-old woman.

Spurred into action, Rakesley closed the distance between them, his feet appearing in her limited line of sight. “Are you hurt?”

“My back,” she groaned. “It’s done this every night this week. It’ll pass. I just need to stay here for a minute or two.”

Her words were met with silence—and feet that didn’t budge.

A full minute passed. All she could hear was the sound of her own breath roaring in her ears—and the silence.

The man had a loud silence about him.

At last, he asked, “Any better?”

“Not exactly,” she couldn’t not admit. “When it passes, it goes all of a sudden, like it never happened.”

“And it started this week?”

“Aye.” She tried shifting her weight to one side…

“Since Blankenship arrived?”

She went still. She didn’t want to answer that question. The truth was she didn’t like Blankenship, but the man was helping to get the best out of Hannibal. She wouldn’t speak a word against him. Besides, she was no grass.

Another minute passed. She tried shifting her weight the other direction… Another pained groan emerged from her.

“Right,” she heard. Rakesley’s feet moved out of view.

Next thing she knew, a warm palm was pressing against the small of her back. She gasped, shock streaking through her. Her instinct was to bolt upright—but that wasn’t possible.

Which was rather the point of the hand—Rakesley’s hand—on the small of her back.

A protest sputtered out of her as a matter of habit—and principle. “What are you?—”

Then he began to apply more pressure and movement, and her protest died away. It felt so…good.Ahhpoured from her parted lips.

“Does this hurt?”

“Erm, no.”

He increased the pressure, now using both hands and really working the muscle. Gemma reached for the table to steady herself. His large, skilled hands were nothing short of amazing, and her mind couldn’t help wondering… How would those hands feel on other parts of her body? Touching secret places…digging in… Places that were beginning to ache with curiosity and need…

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