Page 69 of Greed: The Savage
For years, he had seen only the termagant she chose to show the world. Yet in these close quarters—sparring, clashing, wills and tempers locking as angry tension sparked between them—he had begun to truly see the woman she was. His mind knew it. His body knew it. He saw her. And he wanted her.
She looked at him then, those guarded violet eyes wary—rightly—of a man like Thornwick, one to be feared. Yet he knew her contrary spirit would grant her only one fate—surrender.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she growled, her voice low and husky, the tones of a woman born for the bedchamber.
He drew the swiftly melting ice down her collarbone, his thumb following to rest upon the flutter of her pulse—a steady proof of her awareness of him.
“Tsk, tsk.” His tongue clicked softly. “You have already shown me your razor-edged wit, love. This doe-eyed confusion does not suit you.”
Color rushed to her cheeks. “What the ’ell are you on about?”
All men and women had their tells. For her, it was the way Cockney slipped into her speech whenever he roused her temper. He found it damned endearing—something no other woman had ever been to him. Most of the lords and ladies he had kept company with over the years had the King’s English beaten into them until nothing else remained. But Addien…her lapses into raw, unpolished truth were her own.
Addien gave him a hard shove. “Something wrong with your hearing, Malric?”
She was a strong little thing; the push sent him back a step. Folding her arms across her narrow chest, she let out a satisfied grunt.
Aside from his father, in his youth, no one, least of all a woman, had ever dared to lay hands on him. And Addien had done so more than once. God help him, it aroused him beyond reason. Her frustration was no act; the clever minx truly had no idea how much he wanted her.
“You like bluntness? Then let me be blunt,” he said, voice flat.
Thornwick stepped toward her, and she met him with a wary gaze. “I want you, Addien, in my bed. I want to do to you what no man ever has.” His eyes grew heavy—heated with the promise of what he would do, and shadowed with jealousy for the men who had lain between her sweet thighs. “And I will—and you will love every moment of it.” He would erase every trace of them, until only he remained. “I told you I worked for the Home Office. I was no spy. I did not seduce women for secrets—I seduced them for my own pleasure.” He hooded his lashes, narrowing his eyes to hard slits. “I am a savage. But not so savage that I would come to you on the day Dunworthy—”
She was on him before he could finish. He stiffened, braced for another shove, but the blow never came. Instead, she rose on her toes, slid her arms about his neck, and kissed him.
His body went taut. The arousal that had faltered at the reminder of Dunworthy’s assault surged back with a vengeance. Her kiss was tender, almost uncertain, as though she feared he might reject her. Christ, there was something as erotic in that hesitancy as in the kiss itself.
Everything about this woman drove him to madness. And yet, savage as he was, he never took what was not offered. But when it was…he took it as his due.
When she pressed her lips to his, he met each delicate angle with his own, returning and deepening the kiss until there was no telling whose hunger drove it more.
“You have no idea the danger you’re courting.” His mouth claimed the line of her jaw, then found the elegant arch of her neck. “I’m a gentleman, but only by so much.” He worshipped the satin there with lips and tongue, his hands roaming with slow, possessive intent.
She keened softly.
“If you’re offering, I’ll take it,” he growled, the sound low as a threat and a promise. “And I’ll take it all.”
Addien let her head fall to the side, baring her throat like an offering. “You think I’ve no idea what I’m about?” she rasped. “I know every move I make—and everything I want. I’m not some fine lady flustered by a bit of rutting talk.”
A dark sound rumbled in his chest. “And you are finer than all of them for it.” His teeth grazed the wild flutter of her pulse.
She hissed through her teeth, fingers tangling in his hair. Her nails bit into his scalp. “Harder.”
“God’s blood, yes,” he hissed.
Thornwick shed the last of his restraint. With the fingers of his left hand, he urged her mouth open; his tongue thrust deep, plundering her mouth with the same hunger that drove him to take her body. “I want to be inside you, Addien.”
Addien moaned. “Malric.”
His name, a plea on her hungry lips, drove him to a fever pitch.
His hands roamed, impatient, charting her form. Thornwick drew her wrapper higher, baring the toned line of her leg, reveling in the supple strength beneath his palm. Sliding his hand beneath her left arse cheek, he cupped and coaxed the yielding flesh, teasing her as his mouth drank her breath.
Her exhale broke on a wanton note as he kneaded her curves. “Your legs,” he rasped, winded by his own need, “were made to wrap around me…and you were meant to ride my cock.”
Addien bucked hard against him, grinding her soft belly into the rigid length of him.
“That isn’t enough for you,” he ground out between claiming her mouth. “You want me inside you—and I’ll give it to you, Addien. I’ll give it to you so good the only thought left in your head will be how you never want another cock but mine.” His voice came as a harsh rasp. “I’ll haunt you with the memory of it until the very sound of my name, the mere sight of me passing by, leaves you wet and wanting.”
