A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)
He sighed, glanced down at their meal. “Have you finished? I find my appetite quite gone.”
“Of course.” She rose promptly and followed him over to the two armchairs by the windows. The shadows were deeper here, but that was good. It would make it easier for her to play the role she had chosen to play.
“Tell me what should I watch out for?” she asked him, leaning forward in her chair. “I mean, in case a man wishes to seduce me and in my cloistered innocence I don’t immediately understand his intentions?”
The words sounded ridiculous to her own ears but Valentine didn’t appear to notice. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, he may try to persuade you to be alone with him.”
“Do you mean like we’re alone?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Only this is quite different.”
“And what might he do when we’re alone?” She wrinkled her brow. “Perhaps you should show me exactly what you do mean, Valentine?”
He was still staring at her and now his gaze dropped to her décolletage, her rounded flesh straining against the deep rose of the cloth. A muscle twitched in his cheek, and Marissa knew with complete certainty that she had been right to pack this dress for George.
It was a shame he wasn’t here to see it.
Chapter 11
Valentine felt as if a bolt struck him low in the belly, traveling like wildfire throughout his body. His head swam, his heart began to thud heavily. This was a degree of lust, of need, he had never felt before. With her pale flesh falling out of that delicious dress and her dark curls caressing her neck, she was like something from a midnight fantasy.
And, oh God, he wanted her.
“Would he touch me, do you think?” she said in that same dreamy voice. “Like you touched me?”
He tried to cool himself down but her words brought images to his fevered mind that only raised his temperature higher. “Marissa,” he groaned, “stop.”
“Would he kiss me, do you think?” She slid forward on the edge of her chair, closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her body and smell her scent. “Like you kissed me, Valentine?”
Her lips were only a fraction of an inch from his. So near he could taste them. Valentine struggled to gain control of himself, trying to remember all the reasons he’d sworn he would stay away from the minx. He was winning, or he thought he was, and then she slipped down onto her knees on the floor, her hands resting on top of his thighs, and smiled up at him.
Her dark eyes were wide, guileless, but there was a laughing sparkle deep within. Her dimple peeped out, teasing him. And that was when he realized it was all pretense. He’d been treating her like an innocent ingénue so she was playing the part.
She must have seen something in his expression warning her he’d seen through her act, because she went to withdraw her hands. Quick as a flash he grasped them tightly with his, holding her prisoner.
“Oh no you don’t, minx,” he said. “You asked me to show you what a man like Von Hautt would do to you and I’m going to show you. It’s the least I can do after your performance just now.”
Her lashes swept down and she stopped struggling.
He closed the distance between them, taking her mouth deeply, completely. She made a sound but surprised him by not pulling away. He didn’t plan to be gentle. He was going to show her the worst of mankind.
At least that was his plan.
But the warm delight of her mouth was already blurring the lines between punishment and pleasure. Valentine slid his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss. She froze and then, dash it, she did the same to him. He groaned, but didn’t stop. It wasn’t until he felt her tugging at his grip on her hands that he was able to control himself enough to draw back.
“Valentine,” she said, and her voice was breathless. “Please.”
He felt ashamed, and for a moment he was back with Vanessa. “My apologies, Marissa. I got carried away.”
“I don’t want you to apologize. I want to touch you.”
He went still. Why did those words of hers affect him so? Because they made him feel wanted and desired, emotions he’d forgotten over the years?
“Is that what you’d say to Von Hautt?” he said huskily, trying to regain control. “Have some sense, Marissa!”
“I am sensible,” she replied calmly. “I always have been sensible. But right now I wish I wasn’t. Right now I refuse to be sensible!”
He began to protest, but she placed her fingertip against his lips. And then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.