I need you. She wanted to say the words, but her throat was too tight.
Simon knew. His features were austere with hunger, his eyes feverishly bright in the light of the many candles. He set her on her feet by his massive bed and unfastened the frog at her throat. The shield of her cloak puddled around her feet, leaving her feeling as if she was naked, despite being fully clothed.
“What in hell are you wearing?” he barked.
“A disguise.”
“Christ.” His jaw tightened. “Turn around.”
Frowning, she did as he asked. She jumped as his hands cupped her buttocks and squeezed.
“Have you any idea what the sight of you hungering does to me?” he asked. “Then you compound the problem by displaying every curve of your body.”
It aroused her to be spoken to in that manner. She would not have guessed that would be true.
She faced him. “Is it anything like what the sight of this,” her fingertips touched his navel, then followed the trail of dark hair until impeded by his breeches, “does to me?”
He caught her hand and squeezed gently. “Why did you come?”
She smiled. “Would it ruin the moment to say I am here for me?”
“No.”
“My mother thinks marriage will rein me in. If that is truly her intent, I will take my pleasure now.”
Tension caused his chest to tighten into rock hard, delineated muscle. She thought him beautiful, not in the elegant refined lines of statuary, but in the unpolished power of a man who survived by his physical strength.
“She came to see me tonight,” he murmured, gripping her hips and tugging her closer. “She offered to pay me to go away.”
Indignation and deep sadness warred for dominance. “What did you say?”
He met her gaze directly. “I told her I would consider it.”
Pain, sharp and searing, pierced through her chest. She inhaled sharply, but did not pull away. Perhaps she was naïve, but she did not believe a man could look at her as he did and not care for her at least a little. “Why?”
“My accounts have been seized. I cannot leave of my own accord, I cannot afford to.”
“Do you need to leave?”
“For your sake,” he pressed his cheek to her temple, “I would have.”
“Would have?” she whispered, her fingers kneading along his spine, feeling the way he tensed and quivered beneath her touch like a skittish stallion.
“No need to go now. I will have your virginity within the hour.”
Tangling his fingers in the tie at her throat, Simon tugged it free. His breath gusted hot and damp across her forehead, the sensation primitively arousing. “By the morning,” he purred, “there will be nothing innocent about you, I’m afraid.”
He had pounced, caught his prey, and was preparing to devour.
She shivered, more than ready. More than eager. “I am not afraid at all.”
