Never Marry a Viscount (Scandal at the House of Russell 3)

She heard him kick the door shut, and the next thing she knew he’d picked her up, walked a few paces, and sent her sailing through the air to land on a large bed. “Sorry if my virgin princess wants a more tender wooing, but you’ve teased me long enough.” His voi

ce was harsh, and she heard the sound of clothing being torn off.

Clothing. Coming off. Oh, God, she was in trouble. She started to scramble off the bed, but he caught her ankle, hauling her back and coming down over her. She was spread sideways across the mattress, and he was over her, pressing her down. Shirtless, all that skin against her, and he was hot, while she was cold, wanting to shiver in the darkness.

She closed her eyes, stilling the fight that was coursing through her veins. She was no match for him physically. She’d have to outwit him. With most men that would be easy enough, but Alexander was far more intelligent than the pretty young fribbles she’d danced with in her triumphant season in London. She could see it in his fierce, mocking eyes.

There was no way she was going down without a fight. She was going to win this battle, against him, against her own incomprehensibly wanton desires, simply because she had to.

She lay still beneath him. He didn’t move either, but he was breathing deeply, and she suspected, given his ease in carrying her one hundred pounds or so up the stairs, that it wasn’t from exertion. She closed her eyes and gathered her meager defenses.

He lifted his head and looked down at her. “You really are a giant pain in my arse, Sophie. If you weren’t so damned irresistible I would have sent you straight back. But Lefton knew what she was doing when she sent you.”

Again with the employment agency? Why was he so obsessed with it? “In truth I don’t think I’m suited for this position,” she said in what she hoped was a matter-of-fact tone.

“And which position would you prefer? There are so many variations even I haven’t tried them all, and I defer to your professional knowledge.”

She stared at him. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

He sighed. “Sex, my dear. Copulation. Fucking. What we’re finally about to do.”

“Oh, no we’re not . . .” she started, before his mouth silenced hers. She couldn’t do this. She would lull him into thinking she was compliant, even eager to participate in this, and then run whenever his attention happened to wander. A good plan, she thought almost dazedly, the soft, almost familiar bed beneath her, the strong, hot body on top of hers, the mouth ravishing hers as he tried to steal her resolve. He was luring her, she knew it, seducing her with his increasingly intimate kisses, by the heat his very presence seemed to bring forth in her.

She was no helpless twit to lose her sanity in the face of an overwhelmingly gorgeous man. And yet she was. Was it his kisses—he kissed differently, more intimately, with his mouth open, with his tongue seeking hers. She’d gotten over the shock of it—she was drawn by the almost hypnotic power of it. This must be how rich heiresses are compromised by penniless rakes and forced into marriage, she thought dizzily. Even the most stalwart of females would have a hard time resisting a kiss like this one.

But she was the one who was penniless in this situation. She tore her mouth away from his, gasping for breath, and fixed him with a fierce look. “I don’t understand you,” she said. “Why me?”

She had to fight the sudden lurch of her heart at the flash of anger in his eyes. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, there were times he could frighten her. She wouldn’t let this be one of those times.

But annoyance wasn’t enough to make him move from her. Oddly enough, he wasn’t too heavy, just enough to keep her there but not enough to hurt her, and she realized he must be taking some of his weight on the arms that trapped her. “Why you?” he said. “You’re here.”

His flat, irritated voice was enough to make her buck beneath him, trying to get him off her, but it was a waste of time. “Just give me half an hour and I’ll find you someone else,” she said.

“Do we really have to play this game?” His voice was weary.

“What game?”

He sighed. “All right, my precious, have it your way. You’re a lady in disguise as a simple servant, and I’m the wicked seducer you can’t resist. Just tell me one thing. Do you want it rough or gentle?”

Her eyes shot open, staring into his cynical ones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We’ll see how things go then, shall we?” His mouth caught hers again, silencing her protest. She managed to get her hands free, and she slid them up to push at his shoulders, but the shock of his hot, sleek skin stopped her. He was warm, pliant beneath her fingers, and he kissed the side of her mouth, his teeth tugged on her lower lip, and she let out a shaky little moan.

“That’s right, you little hellion”—he moved his head to whisper in her ear—“I promise you, I can make you forget any game you ever wanted to play and give you the ride of your life.”

“Don’t,” she said desperately, clutching at his shoulders, holding on to him.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk.” Just for a moment she wanted to lose herself in the feel of his skin, his mouth, without the sarcastic words tearing her from her dream.

He laughed then, and to her surprise he rolled to his side, bringing her with him, so that she was no longer trapped. It should have been a relief, but like a fool she didn’t try to pull away. Her eyes had begun to get used to the darkness, but even so close she could barely see him. She felt his hand on her calf, catching the whisper-thin chemise in his hand and starting to draw it upward, and when she reached down to stop him, he simply caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting?”

“Don’t you?” she countered in a whisper. Put your hand back there, she thought. Don’t let me stop you.

She had no idea whether he was a mind reader or not, but he slid his hand back down her leg to catch the shift again. “You don’t want me to tear this pretty thing off you, do you? If that’s the game you want to play then you should wear cheaper clothing.”

“I don’t want to play any games,” she cried.