Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

He began to unfasten his trousers, watching her, waiting for her to grow shocked and coy, perhaps hide her face in her hands. She didn’t. Her gaze took in his body as it was revealed, only widening when his cock sprang free.

“G-goodness,” she managed. “Does it always do that?”

“Only when I’m aroused,” he said, “and believe me, I am very aroused right now.”

“I can see you are.” She brushed her hair from her eyes for a better view. “How can you tell if a woman is, eh, aroused?”

Nic couldn’t remember ever having a conversation like this one, but then Olivia Monteith wasn’t like other women.

“Your breasts. See how your nipples are peaked. Hard.”

She looked down at herself and then reached to touch a pink bud with her fingertip, her face flushed and rapt. Nic tried not to groan aloud. He climbed onto the bed and moved closer, his heavy erection swaying between his legs.

“I see,” she whispered, touching herself again. “And there’s an ache…” Her bright eyes lifted to his.

“An ache?” he rasped, running his hand up her stockinged leg, bunching up her skirts as he went. “Where does it ache?”

“I can’t say…”

Or she wouldn’t.

Nic smiled to himself as he carefully lowered his body onto hers. She made a sound, falling back into the soft mattress, and he propped himself up on his arms so that he could see her glorious face.

“The ache means you’re getting ready for me,” he said. “Growing warm and moist and soft, so that I can slide all the way inside you. Deep inside you.”

“How deep?” she whispered.

He bent his head to hers, anticipating the kiss. “Deep enough to make you mine,” he told her.

Her lashes lowered. She smiled. “I think I would like that.”

Her lips were soft and eager, and he slid his tongue inside her mouth, aware of her thighs beneath his, the hard nubs of her breasts against his naked chest. Desire, the need to possess, had overcome all his scruples. He’d have her, and the consequences be damned.

Nic reached down and closed his fingers over her hip, caressing the satiny flesh, moving lower. She was wearing something silky in place of the usual hideous drawers that women tended to wear under their pretty skirts, but the fact that she was wearing anything at all made her unique at this gathering. Still, there was a slit into which he could slip his hand. His fingers touched soft hair and slick flesh, and he felt her instinctive withdrawal. He began to murmur soothing words as he continued to stroke her, feeling her respond. Her nectar coated his fingers as he pressed them inside her, preparing the way.

Knowing he was the first had a peculiar effect on him. Before tonight he’d never thought of himself as possessive, but now the need to hold on to her, to own her completely, gripped him with an unstoppable urgency. Nic told himself not to be ridiculous, but the feeling remained. Was it some fundamental male urge left over from the days of the cavemen, who had to fight for everything they wanted and then fight to keep it?

But what right have I to keep Olivia Monteith? This will only lead to trouble. Remember Sarah…

“Nic?” Her soft voice pierced his distraction. She was touching his cheek, and then she began to nuzzle her lips against his jaw. “Nic, don’t stop,” she breathed. “I don’t want you to stop. I like what you’re doing to me.”

But it was too late. The intrusive voice in his head had acted as a brake. Nic had come to his senses with the realization that he was about to deflower Miss Olivia Monteith. Remember Sarah? How in God’s name could he forget her and the tragedy that had ripped his family apart, a tragedy Olivia knew absolutely nothing about? Why the bloody hell did everything have to be so complicated?

He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Olivia…”

She stared at him, reading his words before he could utter them, and the desire in her face drained away, leaving her white and tired, and suddenly very vulnerable.

Chapter 11

She couldn’t believe it. Well, she could, but she didn’t want to. To suddenly develop scruples now, at the last possible moment! Her body was humming from his touch, aching for more, and he was going to tell her that stopping was for her own good. It really was too much.

“I’m taking you home,” he said gravely, and sitting down on the edge of the bed, began to pull on his black evening trousers. The silky cloth slid over his thighs and his shaft, still erect, but when he saw her watching he turned prudishly away.

Olivia felt like screaming. Where had the rake gone? He’d disappeared, along with the Nic who had stood before her, naked and unabashed, talking of tutoring her in the ways of the demimondaine and making her feel weak at the knees. Now in his place stood a puritanical prude who seemed determined to spoil everything while telling her it was for her own good.

Olivia could weep with frustration, but she wouldn’t let him see how much she was affected. He’d probably offer her his handkerchief and tell her she’d have forgotten all about him by morning. She’d had such hopes for tonight, such certainty that he would finally wake up to the truth, and instead she was right back where she’d started.

“There’s no need for you to take me home. I’m staying at the inn,” she informed him coldly. “Besides, I might remain at the ball for a little longer. I was enjoying myself before you—”