One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(35)

She closed her fingers around his wrist, removing his hand from the wall near her head. Intent on showing him she could—and did—do as she pleased, she brought that hand to her lips. Lightly, teasingly, she brushed her mouth over his palm. His skin quivered beneath her lips and she smiled. Opening her mouth, she lavished him with a kiss, trailing her tongue over warm, slightly salty skin.

Pulling back, she blew on the moist flesh. Watching his closed eyes, she sucked a single finger deep into her mouth, running her tongue over his fingertip and nipping the callused pad with her teeth.

With a hissing release of air, his eyes flew open, the centers sparks of light that seared her to the spot. Deep satisfaction gripped her as she slid his finger slowly from her mouth like a sweetmeat long savored.

She smiled saucily. "See."

Dropping his wrist, she attempted to step around him, but his arms came up around her again, bands of steel on either side of her.

"You play a dangerous game," he growled, shoving his face so close she could see herself in the gleaming titian centers of his eyes.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. "Now it's my turn. Close your eyes." On this beast she freed from its cage? Not a chance. She shook her head.

"Time to play fair," he chided.

Reluctantly, her eyes drifted shut. Blackness engulfed her, every sensation intensified as she waited for his next move.

She did not have long to wait.

Cool air caressed her legs as he lifted her skirts. With a gasp, her hands dove for his, seizing his wrists and forcing them still.

"Let go," he ordered, his voice no less commanding for its quietness. For whatever reason, she complied, fingers slipping from his wrists. She had permitted this man to do much more than lift her skirts after all. Even if it had been under the guise of Aurora. His hands caressed their way up her legs, past her stockings and garters to her bare thighs. Her flesh trembled beneath his touch, but she did not move, did not open her eyes. In her mind, she saw Leda, lips a crimson slash in her pale face as her swan lover swooped down upon her. His fingers slipped within her drawers, sifting through the soft curls with infinite gentleness. Without hesitating, he went directly to the aching spot between her legs. She gasped at the first touch of his thumb there.

"That's it," he whispered, the sound of his voice directly in her ear. "Does this please you?" He pushed his thumb against the small nub, exerting enough pressure to make her gasp sharpen and veer into a cry.

Without thinking, she widened her stance.

He added his forefinger and squeezed, rolling the nub in quick, savage circles. She cried out again, hands clawing the tapestry at her sides as moisture rushed between her legs and sweet release washed over.

Seth's ragged breathing filled her ear. His fingers delved into her wet heat. Parting her folds, he impaled her with one finger. She lurched off the wall, fingers digging into his shoulder as she sobbed her pleasure.

"God, I wager you taste sweet, too."

I wager you taste sweet, too.

Her eyes flew open just as he slipped his hand from between her legs and lowered himself, no doubt intending to find out.

The wretch! The libertine!

Was every woman the same to him? To be bedded and discarded?

To be fed the same whispered words of passion?

A dark fury seized her. A strangled cry on her lips, she shoved down her skirts and pushed at his shoulder.

Seth staggered to his feet, eyes burning with a desire she now knew to be cheap and common, something he likely dispensed on women with disgusting regularity.

At sight of her face, his brow furrowed. "Jane? What—"

Indignation scalding a bilious trail up her throat, she sent her palm cracking against his face. He fingered his cheek, the white imprint of her hand quickly appearing on his swarthy flesh.

"Forgive me," he said, the fire in his gaze suddenly dead, buried, banked beneath cool brown again. "I misread the situation. I believed my advances welcome."

"You were mistaken," she lied, heat crawling up her neck and face to think that she had almost been seduced by a man who evidently thought women were as interchangeable as neckcloths.

"It won't happen again," he promised, taking several steps back, putting a respectable distance between them.

No, it would not.

Because she would never be foolish enough to be caught alone with him again.

"I think the performance has ended. I don't hear singing anymore," she murmured, sweeping past him.

"Nor do I," he drawled, so quiet she barely heard him.

She stopped. "You better wait here for a short while. It won't do for us to be seen returning together."

He gave a stiff nod. "Or course."

With a stiff nod of her own, she turned and left, determined not to look back at the man she was only beginning to see for his true self. Seth was not the loving boy of her youth. The sooner she accepted that, the safer her heart.

Seth watched Jane go, unsure what had just transpired, only knowing that he had gone too far with the proper lady.

He throbbed painfully, his erection pressing at his breeches, aching for her. His cheek ached, too. Only from the sting of her slap.

"Bloody hell."

Shaking his head, he traced the burning imprint of her hand on his face. He should have known better. What was he doing tossing her skirts as if she were some common strumpet? Of course Jane would not be agreeable to such coarse treatment.