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

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand what she was doing to him. It was time he reminded her, and himself, that he was no tame pussycat. Nic shook off the surprised brunette and began to fight his way through the crowd until he reached the dais.

By now Olivia was kicking up her feet, her black dress lifting to show quite a lot of slim stockinged leg. One of her slippers came off, sailing into the crowd, and there was a mad scramble to souvenir it. Olivia stumbled, doubled over with laughter, and Nic took his chance to jump onto the dais and swing her up into his arms. Running down the steps at the side, he made off with her to shouts of protest, cries of “Foul” and “Unfair,” and “Let the doxy make her own choice, Lacey!” He ignored them all, as well as Olivia’s breathless squeaks and wriggles.

He was still carrying her, out into the hall and up the curving flight of stairs, right to the top, without even taking time to catch his breath. He felt like a warrior of old, claiming his prize of war, as he strode boldly along the wide, opulent corridor. Several of the bedchambers were already engaged, but he finally found one that was empty. With the door closed and locked, he set her free.

She backed away from him, looking cross and disheveled, and he saw that her neckline had slipped again. She noticed his interest and tugged it up, watching him suspiciously, her eyes overbright from champagne, while her fair hair tumbled around her shoulders. She looked, he thought, completely adorable. But that didn’t make him any less furious with her for spoiling his night and turning him into some kind of unwilling fairy godfather.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her words running into each other. “Pr-protect me, I mean. I am p-perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he sneered.

“I—I never realized before what a boring old pr-prude you are, Nic.”

Nic knew then that he’d reached his breaking point. He had tried to be good and do the right thing, and where had it got him? No more Nic the gentleman. It might be reprehensible, but now he was going to do what he’d wanted to from the first moment he set eyes on her on the ballroom floor.

Slowly he prowled toward her, watching her, a hard smile flicking at his lips. “Is that what you think I’m doing, Olivia? Protecting you?”

“Yes. Because you think I—I can’t look after myself.” But despite her air of self-righteous certainty, her glance slid nervously from his.

“Well, can you?”

“Absolutely.” Her dress began to slip again as she turned to keep him in sight as he circled her.

“Do you know why I attend the demimonde ball, Olivia?”

“To enjoy yourself as gentlemen are wont to do, I i-imagine.”

“To find a woman I can tutor in my likes and dislikes.”

“Tutor?” she said, doubtfully. “In conversation, do you mean?”

“In bed,” he corrected her, moving closer still.

Her eyes widened, her lips opened, but no sound came out.

She cleared her throat. “Do gentlemen have likes and dislikes in bed? Well, I suppose they do. It makes perfect sense that—”

He cut her short. “I think, seeing you’ve succeeded in ruining my chances of finding a companion I can tutor, you should offer yourself up in her place.”

Now he had her full attention. “Oh you do, do you? I offered you the chance to show me the pl-pleasures of the fl-flesh before, and you refused. I don’t think you should get a second chance.”

“I deserve a second chance, Olivia.”

He looked down at her breasts, and with one finger reached out to trace the pink half circle of her areola, peeking above the black velvet and lace. She began to speak, but when he delved beneath the cloth and stroked her nipple, whatever she’d meant to say ended as a gurgle.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said in a deep, rough voice. “But you knew that, didn’t you, minx? You’ve known it all along. Well, I hope you’re satisfied.”

She shook her head as if to deny his words, but when he put his arm around her, she swayed into its curve, her eyes fluttering closed. He bent his head and took her nipple delicately between his lips, using his tongue to touch and tease. She tasted like raspberries.

“Is that one of your likes?” she gasped.

“Oh definitely,” he growled, and pulled her further into his arms, until her body was crushed so hard to his it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended.

The desire in him erupted. He’d been fighting this ever since she called on him and proposed to him, and he was going to fight no more.

Her remaining slipper arced across the room as he swung her into his arms, her breasts bare to his gaze and his mouth. He proceeded to lavish attention on them as he carried her to the bed. She clung to his neck, her voice a meaningless low murmur, but he was on fire and the time for talking was over.

He tossed her onto the bed and stripped off his jacket and pulled the shirt over his head, careless of torn seams. She’d rolled onto her back and was propped up on her elbows, watching him, her hair tangled about her, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips partly open.