What You Propose (Anything for Love 2)

Deep masculine whispers drifted through the air, the odd curse, a few groans, but she felt no fear.

Why would she?

She had lived with a devil for years. Nothing could ever surpass the horrors she had witnessed. Besides, she felt safe with Marcus. Just knowing he would protect her with his life caused her heart to swell.

Indeed, it proved to be the biggest revelation of all.

She had never trusted anyone. Yet despite his arrogant facade, she knew she could depend on him. Desire hit her again as she gazed up at his chiselled jaw, at the wavy locks tied at his nape, and she felt forced to clear her throat to suppress it.

"Shush," Marcus whispered.

"Did you hear something?" Lenard's voice received a mixture of replies from his devious counterparts. "Someone's out there."

"Bloody hell," Marcus cursed. "Forgive me." She was about to ask why, when he pushed her back against the wall. "If you want to live don't fight me."

He claimed her mouth without any hesitation, without the teasing nips and caresses she'd expected. He didn't give her a chance to tell him she had never kissed a man. Victor had brushed her lips roughly on occasion, but nothing more.

Marcus angled his head, traced the line of her lips with his tongue and then plunged deep inside — wild and frantic. She tried to calm her breathing, tried not to choke on her inexperience. He tasted of wine, of some other potent flavour that made her head feel light and dizzy.

He tore his lips from hers, moved to nuzzle her neck and she almost sagged to the ground. "You had better start kissing me back. Else I'll be dragged off you and beaten to a pulp."

He parted her cape, his hand drifting over her hip as he claimed her mouth again. This time, she tried to clear her mind, tried to draw from the desire she felt for him. Heavens she couldn't tell him the truth. She would have to act as though she knew what she was doing.

When his hand moved slowly up to cup her breast, things became much easier. The throbbing between her thighs returned, a frisson of excitement ran through her and so she followed his lead. Putting her hand on his hip, she tugged the shirt from his breeches, dared to let her fingers roam beneath the material, dared to let her tongue dance with his.

She sensed the shift in him immediately. The groan resonating from the back of his throat gave her more con

fidence to experiment. His skin felt hot to the touch, searing the tips of her fingers as they drifted over the rippled muscles in his abdomen, but his waistcoat prevented her from exploring further. Instead, she moved her hands to his nape, threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged gently.

In the distance, she heard a low chuckle, French mutterings, someone saying to leave them be, that they'd best be on their way.

She expected Marcus to pull away when she heard them slam the wooden hatch. But he continued his sensual assault, cupping her cheeks to deepen the kiss.

"God, Anna," he whispered as he stopped to catch his breath. "You make me insane with desire."

She felt her face flush, shocked at the realisation that she wanted him to kiss her again.

Without thinking, she stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her mouth softly across his. The taste of him, the earthy masculine smell that clung to his skin was like a potent elixir. The addictive essence fed her craving.

"I was expecting another slap." He raised an arrogant brow as his heated gaze lingered on her lips. "Although you seemed to be a willing participant."

"What choice did I have?" Her body still ached for his touch. "You jumped on me before I had a chance to protest."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a sinful smirk. "I have to admit I was a little surprised. I liked the way you feigned naiveté just for my benefit."

If she told him the truth, he would never believe her.

"I'm pleased you approve," she said offering a coy smile to disguise her embarrassment. "I thought it best to add a little more authenticity to our charade."

The lie fell easily from her lips. She couldn't imagine there would be a need to kiss him again, so he need never know any different.

Without any warning, he lowered his head and kissed her once: a soft, chaste kiss on the mouth. Perhaps he had heard her thoughts and wished to protest.

"What was that for?" she asked playfully, despite feeling a frisson of fear. She wanted him to kiss her a hundred times. This strange and sudden need she had for him felt like a living thing growing inside, increasing with every touch, with every sinful look, every kind, thoughtful word.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh." She'd expected him to say it had something to do with the assignment. "What are we to do now?"