Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(84)

Retribution was what this was. He would make her atone for her sins. He would take her one last time so that he could sleep at night when she was gone.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she insisted. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. Sebastian, you left me. You didn’t deserve my loyalty. But I have been here waiting for your return just the same. Even now, I can’t deny you because I love you too much.”

Bitterness laced through him. “Your manipulation won’t work upon me any longer. All those clever little lies, Daisy. You’re a brilliant actress, I’ll grant you that. But now the time for deceit is at an end.”

Her fine-boned wrists were small and delicate enough that he could hold them both in one fist, he discovered, which left his right hand free to do as it wished. He skimmed down the length of her bare arm to the lace at her sleeve. Down over her breasts, and then lower, to her hip, her knee.

“It’s true,” she said, and there was a tremble in her voice that almost made him feel a trace of compunction. “I love you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Liar.”

She tugged at her wrists, naively thinking she could somehow overpower him and escape. She could not. “Unlike you, I speak the truth. You still have not said where you were. Will you tell me? Please?”

He ignored her plea. Blood rushed through him, straight to his cock. He didn’t want to hear anything else she had to say. No more falsehoods or pretense. No more protestation. One last time. Just this night, he promised himself silently, this night to exorcise her from him.

He kissed her. Took her mouth with his to stop hers from moving. Or at least that’s what he told himself as lust slammed through him. She tasted sweet, sweeter than he remembered, and though he’d wanted the kiss to be punishing, the moment she responded, moaning into his mouth, fitting her lips to his, he knew it could not be.

The only one he punished was himself.

Because his body clamored for her, but so did his heart. Damn it, the weakest part of him wanted to believe her when she professed to love him. When she claimed her antics had all been an attempt to bring about his return. That the fortnight they’d spent together had been real—the laughter, the love, all of it. That she wasn’t a Fenian. Dynamite, he thought as he dragged his mouth lower, down her throat, across the silky expanse of creamy skin. She was his dynamite.

He had missed her. Dear God, how he had missed her. “Do you want this?” he asked before he tongued the hollow at the base of her throat, just above her glittering diamonds.

“Yes.” The word slid from her lips on a sigh. “I want you so much I can’t bear it.”

Thank fuck. He caught her bodice in his hand, and ripped the delicate silk cleanly from her. Or at least half of it. With a flick of his wrist, the bodice was gone. He gripped her corset and used his thumb to work the first hook-and-eye closure free. It didn’t take him long to have the red satin, black-lace-trimmed corset open. Her chemise remained, shielding her from him. He rent the fine fabric as well. She was nude from the waist up.

Her breasts were full and high, the sweet pink nipples he’d recalled countless times while secreted in Liverpool hard and inviting, pointing upward. He couldn’t resist lowering his head to take the hardened bud of her left nipple into his mouth. He sucked, relishing the way she writhed against him, arching into his body, squeezing his hips with her thighs. She moaned. He caught her between his teeth, tugged.

She begged. “Please, Sebastian.”

Need roared out of control. Thundered though his veins. Lit a fire that burned just beneath his skin. His ballocks tightened, his cock grinding against her center. Jesus. He had never wanted a woman more. His reaction to her was ludicrous. He knew what she was, what she’d done. Christ, he probably didn’t even know the half of it. And yet there would be no purging her from his blood until he had her this night.

He released her nipple with a loud, wet pop, tilted his head so that their eyes clashed again at last. Deep, intense green pierced him. Her mouth had fallen open, her breath uneven. He blew on her nipple once. Twice. Nipped it again, his gaze never leaving hers.

“What do you want, Daisy?” As he asked the question, he canted his hips, pressing the demanding ridge of his cock against her more fully. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Her breasts rose and fell, her breathing faster. She swallowed, ran her tongue over her lower lip. “I want you to believe me.”

“Make me believe you,” he dared. The challenge was a lie, bold and foolish, for he knew there was no earthly means by which she could persuade him that she wasn’t in fact the treacherous viper he had discovered her to be. All the evidence led to only one conclusion. She was her father’s daughter. She had betrayed him. She was an actress, a manipulator, a faithless liar. And he had fallen prey to her.

Now, he wanted to exact a bit of his own vengeance before she needed to face her inevitable end. Turning her over to Carlisle and League forces would not be easy when the time came, regardless of what she’d done.

But for tonight, she was his and his alone.

“I shouldn’t have to make you,” she countered, stubborn to the last. That was Daisy—bravado and courage and manipulation, a vibrant flower that was too bold and dishonest for her own good. “I’m your wife. I’ve never given you cause to doubt me.”