Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

“I’ll run away,” Sidonie said without shifting.

“I’ll chase you.”

“Why bother?”

He took her trembling hands and stupid, weak female she was, she didn’t draw away. Danger clanged around her like a huge bell but she remained glued to the spot.

“Because you’re quite beautiful, dolcissima,” he said gently. “Don’t you know that?”

Last night he’d told her she was beautiful. Before he’d stalked out in a huff. He sounded as sincere as he had then. Just as it had then, her heart slammed to a stop. “That’s a rake’s trick, to tell a girl she’s beautiful.”

“Is it working?” he said amiably, stripping off her gloves.

“No.” She wished to heaven she meant it.

“Pity.” He dropped her gloves to the ground and stripped off his own. “Damn it, you’re always inconveniently overdressed.”

Not always.

The thought hovered between them as if spoken aloud. She was free to run; he no longer held her. Go, go, she told her feet, but they stubbornly refused to budge. “I don’t find it inconvenient at all.”

“Another regrettable sign of innocence. One day you’ll be grateful I showed you the ropes.”

Her lips flattened in disapproval. “This is a public service?”

She wished she didn’t like his laugh. Every time she heard that deep, musical rumble, another brick crumbled from her defenses. “A chap has a duty to his fellow man.”

“They’ll probably give you a medal,” she said faintly as his hands framed her face. Sucking in a shaky breath, she exhorted herself to be strong. She strove to stiffen a backbone that showed a lamentable tendency to curve in his direction.

His palms were warm against her cheeks. “A knighthood at the very least.”

“For services to womankind.” She tried to sound sarcastic but the words emerged on a burst of breathless excitement.

A light flared in his gray eyes. “Oh, I intend to service you, bella.” Before she mustered another unconvincing protest, he lowered his lips to hers.

Heat. Softness. Trembling uncertainty. A hidden longing to respond. Jonas tasted all of that when he dipped his lips to Sidonie’s. He couldn’t say why he was so deeply moved to be the first man to kiss her. His cock swelled to attention. Her merest presence aroused him. It had from the first. Whatever power she possessed, he was helpless against it.

Experimentally, he nibbled, licked at the seam. She was bewitching. Even now when she conceded little more than she had when he’d kissed her last night. She quivered under his hands. He still wasn’t sure whether she was excited or frightened. He’d read both curiosity and dread in her pansy eyes. Her thick tortoiseshell hair tickled his fingers. After her wild ride, she looked enchantingly disheveled. It made him contemplate other wild rides he’d like to take with her.

Raising his head, he stared at her. Her eyes were shut and her lashes fluttered against flushed cheeks. His nostrils flared as he drew in the evocative scents of the sea and Sidonie.

“Open your mouth, tesoro.” He angled her face higher. “Open your mouth for me.”

At his raw demand, her eyes flared wide. For a drunken moment, he drowned in glorious brown, rich, autumnal, sensual.

“O-open…?”

He took advantage and claimed her, sliding his tongue into the interior. She made a sound of surprise and tried to back off. “No.”

“Bella, don’t be afraid.”

She stopped edging away but her lips closed against him again. He returned to demanding nothing more than her stillness. She stood unresponsive, although her choppy breathing indicated she was far from unmoved. She resisted to the point where he thought he’d run mad with wanting her.

Just resistance, resistance, resistance. Endless resistance.

Then in the space between one second and the next, endless resistance dissolved. Her hand curved around his shoulder. On a sigh, she leaned into him. Warmth powerful enough to melt the chill from his obsidian heart enveloped him. The hand on his shoulder flexed into a caress. Her lips parted and at last gave up the honey within. Luxuriously he savored her mouth. She was delicious. His tongue flickered over hers and he heard a smothered protest.

If he had an ounce of charity in his soul, he’d release her. But her flavor was as addictive as gin to a toper. He’d blithely imagined he’d keep his head during this impromptu lesson. Instead she made a mockery of arrogance. She who had never kissed a man.