Page 32 of The Virgin and the Viscount

“I warned you. I gave you explicit instructions.” His tone wasn’t angry. Instead, his voice was low and rumbly, sultry with wicked promise.

Tingles scattered across her body, her nipples pebbled against her corset.

He patted his hand on his lap. “Come here, Tilly.”

She swallowed. “You fully intend to punish me?” Why did her voice sound so damned excited by that notion? She should be appalled, angry.

He said nothing, but patted his hand against his thigh again. His thick, muscular thigh.

Wordlessly, she came forward one step.

“Come willingly and this will be over quickly. If not, if you make me chase you, then things will go much differently.”

His deep voice fluttered through her body as sure as a caress. She shuddered against it. Then her body, as if it had a will of its own, walked directly to him.

“Lie down.”

She wanted to be humiliated, to feel embarrassed or angry at his actions. Instead, she felt only excitement and desire. She did as instructed, laying her body across his lap, facedown. His large hands gripped her hips to hold her in place until she was situated. Her breathing became shallower, more difficult to pull in. And it seemed every hair on her body had grown sensitive. She closed her eyes.

Her body was attuned to everything. The firmness of his muscular thighs beneath her, the slow drag of his hand up her calf, pulling her skirts with him. He massaged a hand over one globe of her bottom. She sucked in a breath.

“You ladies wear entirely too many layers underneath these gowns. ’Tis a wonder you don’t all melt on sunny days,” he said. Suddenly his hand shifted and started moving downward, taking her pantaloons the rest of the way off. When she removed her own clothing, it never felt like this, as if she could feel every thread, every fiber as it slid against her flesh.

Chilled air hit her bare bottom and she sucked in a breath. She bit down on her lip.

“I need you to be safe.” His warm palm cupped her bottom, squeezed lightly. “Nothing is more important to me than your safety.” His words spoke of concern for her safety, but the tone in his voice was pure seduction. “Promise me you’ll stop this nonsense.”

“I cannot do that,” she whispered. She took a shuddering breath. “My duties with the Ladies of Virtue are important to me. They are the biggest, most singular part of me. I am nothing without them.”

“You are my wife.”

In name only, she wanted to say. But now didn’t seem to be the right time to provoke him. Additionally, she was unabashedly curious as to what he was about to do to her.

“Is this truly necessary?” she asked, her voice sounding deep and throaty.

“I need you to know how strongly I feel about keeping you safe and protected.” He smoothed his palm over her bare bottom and gooseflesh broke out all over her body. “Christ, Tilly, you have a sweet arse.”

Her nipples were painfully tight, and the wetness building between her thighs would likely be dripping onto his pants any minute. She squeezed her eyes shut.

His hand came down forcefully on her bottom and she released a cry. It didn’t hurt per se, but the shock of the contact startled her. He smoothed his hand over where he’d struck her, soothing her. Then another smack, followed by a soothe. Again and again.

Desire shook through her body and she knew if something didn’t give, she’d break. Something had built inside of her and she was ridiculously close to begging him to touch her, to ease whatever need had crested in her. Mentally, she pled with him to make her his in every way. The liquid desire between her thighs dripped down her legs, and there was no way he wouldn’t notice that. She squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. Sullivan picked her up and flipped her over until she was cradled on his lap. Could he hear how hard her heart was pounding?

He pressed sweet kisses to her hair and head. From this new position she could feel his hard length beneath her. Certainly that meant he wanted her. Or was this another time when his body had simply reacted?

Then without a word, he set her on her feet, stood, and walked through the door that adjoined their bedchambers.

Was he quite serious? She let the fury roll around in her body for a few minutes as she paced the room, desire still thick and wet between her legs. Her bottom stung, but not nearly as much as her pride. Did he ever intend to truly make her his wife? Or was he intent on telling her only what to do and nothing more?

She’d be damned if she’d be the obedient little wife if their union was nothing more than in name only. Obviously, he didn’t desire her, that had to be the only reason. But this charade of a marriage had been his choice. His mess. Well, she could clean it up for him. Then she’d be free to live her life the way she wanted. She bet any one of her friends would let her live with them.

…

Sullivan had just shrugged out of his shirt and poured himself a finger of brandy when the door connecting his room to Tilly’s sprung open.

His wife stormed inside without preamble. “I want an annulment.”

“I beg your pardon.”

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