Page 72 of A Wicked Game

Stubborn chit!She had no idea what she was dealing with. What she was inviting.

Enflamed, dangerously close to losing his fabled control, he spun them both around and pressed her up against the wall. She gasped as her bare back came into contact with the cool wallpaper, then groaned as he tightened his grip on her hips and slowly, deliberately, ground himself against her. The solid ridge of his cock pushed against her mound through the material of her skirts.

“Say stop!” he panted. Begged, really. She had greater belief in his willpower than he did. He’d wanted her too badly, for too long. He was hanging by a thread.

He slid his hands behind her and gripped her bottom, dragging her closer still. He rested his forehead on the wall behind her shoulder, praying for the coolness to clear his fevered brain.

“Witch,” he groaned. His hips rocked against her. Hisentire body was taut, shaking. “Say it.Say it, or so help me, I’m going to fuck you up against this wall right now.”

He dragged his head back and glared at her, determined to frighten some sense into her, but his heart stuttered at the expression on her face.

She looked as feverish as he felt. Her hair had come loose from its upswept style and hung in glorious disarray around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips—God, her lips—were pink and swollen from his kisses.

Every muscle tensed as he waited for her to put an end to this insanity, but instead a wicked twinkle sparkled in her eyes.

“Go on then. Idareyou.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Dear God, she’d said it!

Harriet’s heart felt like it might give out, it was pounding so hard. The feel of Morgan pressing against her was extraordinary, overwhelming in the most wonderful way.

She wanted him so much she felt faint. Desire thrummed in her blood and pooled in a heavy, aching pulse between her legs, in the tips of her breasts.

Please, she prayed silently.Play with me. Make love to me. Finish this.

She had to know. Just once, before he slipped from her grasp forever. One night to do everything she’d dreamed.

She didn’t want a slow, choreographed seduction, the same thing he’d done with other women. She wanted the passion their teasing had always promised, that wicked spark, that burning conflagration she’d glimpsed in his eyes the few times he’d let his polite mask slip.

Their relationship had never been predictable. Making love with him shouldn’t be predictable either.

He seemed to have stopped breathing. His green eyes had darkened to black and for a moment he looked almost frightening. He shook his head, and her stomach dropped with the thought that he was about to refuse her, but thenhe leaned in until his nose brushed hers. His fingers tightened on her backside.

“You want this?” His tone was belligerent. “Truly want this?”

“Yes.” She moistened her lips.

“We shouldn’t. I’ll ruin you.”

She couldn’t look away from his face. “Not if I ruin you first.”

That made no sense, but his eyes narrowed, his lips parted, and she saw the precise moment he gave in. He bent and took her mouth with a groan that sounded like surrender.

Elation almost made her crumple at his feet. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept away. His intention was clear: to stoke the fire in her with the answering flame in himself. She ought to be ashamed, to have invited such wickedness, but she couldn’t regret it for one moment.

With a groan, he shrugged out of his jacket and threw it aside, his mouth barely leaving hers.

His shirt was next, and she sighed in delight. She flattened her palms on his chest, desperate to touch, to feel the heat and texture of his skin.

God, he was beautiful. His skin was tawny in the firelight, his pectorals broad and flat. Breathless, incredulous, she slid her hands down, tracing the ridges of muscle on his abdomen down to the top of his breeches.

With a warning growl he caught her arm and spun her around to face the wall. His arms came around her, pulling her back into the hot curve of his body and she let out a ragged gasp as his bare chest made contact with her back.

So hot. So hard.

One of his hands slipped between her and the wall tocaress her breast while the other unhooked her skirts. The entire dress, petticoat and all, collapsed in a whisper of satin at her feet.

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