Page 106 of Heartbreaker

Good.He intended to give it to her.

But then he couldn’t intend anything, because she wastouching him, stroking and exploring the hard straining column of him beneath his trousers. His grip tightened on the arms of the chair, the wood creaking in his hands as she worked his buttons with speed.

Thank God. He couldn’t bear slow.

She struggled with one and released a little sound of frustration, and Henry thought he might come from that sound alone—the proof of her desire for him. But no. He wasn’t coming without her.

Not even when she spread the fabric wide and revealed the length of him, hard and hot and aching.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That is—”

It was rude. A gentleman would apologize for it.

“—beautiful,” she finished, delight in her voice.

His eyes slid closed and his heart pounded and the edge of the chair’s arms bit into his flesh and he willed himself not to touch her. To let her touch him.

Was she going to touch him?

One finger. One sinful finger, sliding over the tip of him and down the throbbing column. Like fire. Like torture.

“Adelaide.” All the years he’d tried so hard to be in control. To be a decent man. To be noble. And with one finger, she turned him into an animal. He cursed, low and wicked.

She gave him what he wanted, gripping him more tightly, rubbing her thumb over the broad head of him.

He hissed out a breath, throwing his head back against the chair, his gaze rapt on her hand as she worked him over with her pretty, tight fist—down, then up again. He wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. She didn’t want him touching her as she did this? Thought he could resist her? She’d have to lash him to this chair if she wanted that.

With effort, he tore his gaze from where she touched him to find her waiting for him. She wasn’t watching the movements. Wasn’t gauging his desire from the ironstiffness in her hand. Instead, she was watching his face. Watching him, watching her.

He found control again. “You like what you see.”

“I do.” Another stroke, long and lingering. Another breath, punched from his chest.

“You see what you do to me?”

A small smile. A whisper of triumph. “You want me.”

Wantwas too small a word. Four letters where he needed forty thousand. “I do.”

“My hand.” Those smooth, rich slides would kill him.

“Yes.” His hand flexed on the chair. “Adelaide. Let me touch you.”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” She paused. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to concentrate.”

“I don’t need you to concentrate, love,” he said. “I need you to lie down and let me worship you.” She needed it, too. He could see it in the way her pretty sable lashes flickered with desire. “God, you’re beautiful. Let me show you how much.”

She shook her head, leaning in and whispering to the tip of him, “Have you imagined this?”

What was the right answer? Should he tell her how he’d imagined it? A dozen times? A hundred, on her knees just like this? Her hands on him? Her beautiful lips just barely open, waiting for him? How he’d stroked his cock and come in thick ropes, wishing she were there to catch them?

He couldn’t tell her that.

He didn’t have to. “You have,” she said, knowledge and something else in her words. Something breathless. Like pleasure. “I can see it. You’ve imagined me here, yours.”

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