So how did one tame a rake? By making him fall in love.
And how could she make Quinn fall in love? He was a pleasure-seeker. What would he want with love? But if that was so, was the way to his heart through pleasure? If Katharine was right, perhaps passion could lead to love….
Slowly Venetia resumed her brushing. If she thought she stood a chance, she wouldn’t hesitate to attempt a seduction, to tempt Quinn with every skill she could summon, to try and make him desire her beyond reason. And yet…he was so much more experienced at lovers’ games.
She took a steadying breath. Perhaps for now she simply needed to focus on increasing his desire for her. That much she could do.
Rising, Venetia went to the hearth to stir the coals, then snuffed the lamps so that the room was bathed only in firelight. As she finished her task, her hopes began to rise with her increasing confidence.
Shedding her nightdress, she stood naked before the floor-length cheval glass, her back to the door. She felt herself trembling in anticipation as she waited for Quinn. By the time a s
oft rap sounded on her bedchamber door, however, Venetia had strengthened her resolve.
Judging by her initiation to passion in the cave pool, when they made love tonight, she knew Quinn would want to make her beg and plead for him. But if she had her way, she would make him do the pleading this time.
—
When she bid entrance, he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He wore a crimson brocade dressing gown, she saw in the mirror’s gold-hued reflection, and his hair glinted amber in the firelight.
He faltered when he spied her nudity. Good. She had surprised him. She needed every advantage she could muster.
He crossed the room to stand behind her. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, his voice low and throaty.
As she met his gaze in the looking glass, a sizzling current arced between them. “Yes,” she replied shakily. She was wet and eager for him already.
In response, he brushed her hair aside and nuzzled the back of her neck. As his hands slid down her arms, the heat of his palms on her bare skin distracted her from her intent. She was supposed to be taking the lead here, but she was having difficulty concentrating. Quinn stood close behind her, his hands spanning her waist. His body felt hot and hard against her back, reminding her of his alluring caresses. Her stomach clenched as she imagined him touching her further, stroking her hot skin, tracing the swells of her breasts….
As if he could read her mind, his arms encircled her midriff. His breath ruffling her hair, he reached up to cup her bare breasts. The very air smoldered with seduction as he stared at the ripe mounds cradled in his hands.
“How beautiful you are,” he murmured, tracing the rosy areolas with his thumbs, lightly teasing the peaks, which were distended and hard.
The sight of him fondling her was supremely erotic, as was his brazen touch on her protruding nipples.
Then his hips shifted closer, sending a streaking heat shuddering through her. With her buttocks nestled against his groin, she could feel his arousal through the silk of his robe. Tingles radiated from every place their bodies touched, even before he parted the fabric of his robe to let his arousal spring free and began gently caressing her bottom with his hardness.
“Do you remember how it feels to have me deep inside you, love? How you moaned for me?”
Venetia drew in a sharp breath and arched back to press against his powerful body. The promise of having him inside her stirred a pulsing deep between her thighs.
“I remember, beautiful Venetia. I remember how hot and sweet you are….”
His manhood slipped between her thighs, probing purposefully her feminine folds. She shuddered helplessly at the throbbing thrust of him against her most sensitive flesh.
“I want you moaning for me again, sweetheart. I want you writhing in my arms.”
When the rush of pleasure intensified, Venetia dug her nails into her palms, fighting to hold on to her senses.
“Quinn…not so quickly,” she declared hoarsely. “You won’t seduce me as easily as you have in the past.”
“No?”
Easing away, she turned in the circle of his arms to gaze up at him. “If I am a shrew, you will have to work to win my favor.”
He smiled down at her from his wicked blue eyes. Her challenge apparently amused him. “What do you suggest I do to win your favor?”
“Take off your robe.”
Without protest, he complied, untying the sash and letting the garment fall to the carpet.