Revealing Ruby (Bound and Determined #1.5)(25)

It felt so primitive. He felt so primitive.

Well, why not? He moved forward, stalking her like a great cat, until he could lay his mouth over his mark, not quite biting, but definitely tasting his brand.

“Hmmm,” she whispered, letting her body sink back into the pillows. “Do you think we can take it slow this time? I’d really like to relish the experience.”

“We can try. Although I’ve never been much for slow.” He lifted his head. “And did you not relish it the last three times?”

“You are such a man. And I am not sure that relish is quite the right word for what I experienced the last three times.”

Lifting his hips he pressed his arousal against her thigh. “I certainly hope I am a man.”

—

What was it about him? Never had a man moved her between laughter and intimacy with such ease. “I will not debate the subject.”

“Should I take that as a win?” He cocked a brow.

“I will let you take it as you choose. And my gods, where did you learn that look? You could be a duke. Perhaps dukeness is seeping from the bed onto you.”

“?‘Dukeness’? I do not believe that is a real word, and to the best of my knowledge I have never even met a duke. I do have a cousin once removed who is an earl, Lord Willis, but I’ve only met him on rare occasion. I am invited to a masquerade he is throwing this summer if I am still in London, but I believe he is actually inviting all of London, so he is trying to please only my mother with the invite. I do not believe that he either believes I will make it or will even notice my presence if I do.” He rolled onto his back.

Yes, he was endlessly confusing. One moment stern, one aroused and ready, one laughing, and the next telling her secrets with an air of confidence. Not, she supposed, that it was truly a secret who his cousin was, but Ruby had the feeling that he didn’t often share the fact.

Turning on her side, she stared at him through a veil of mussed blond curls. “So what is happening between us? What is it you want?”

She’d never seen a man stiffen so fast—and not in a good way.

What a fool she was, Madame Rouge, the woman who knew all about men and how to manage them. “I phrased that wrong. I know that there is no surer way to send a man running than to ask him to define the relationship he seeks with a woman.”

Reaching out, she ran a hand along his thigh, not touching anything crucial, but making her intent clear. There were some things about managing men that she did remember. His warm skin shifted at her touch, and he turned toward her.

“What did you mean then?” he asked.

How to phrase it? “I am confused and I do not like being confused. When I came to the bath tonight I had one idea of what would happen between us, and to be frank, it did not include much conversation. I rarely share things about myself with others and I sense that you are the same. Am I wrong?”

“No, you are not wrong.”

She focused her gaze on the indent below his throat, such an innocent spot, a vulnerable spot. “Let me give you choices. A, tonight was the end, a simple meeting of flesh for mutual pleasure and to relieve the pressure of desire. B, this was wonderful, more than expected. Let’s do it again when chance permits. C, you love me and want to stay with me forever. Let’s do this again and again and then you’ll sweep me away to wedded bliss.”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “Not the last, but then you knew that. And you’d probably say no.”

It was her turn to chuckle. “Yes, I would. Why give up all this and be respectable?” Sitting in bed, letting the sheet fall to her waist, she gestured about the chamber.

His eyes fastened on her bare breasts.

Ah, men, always the same.

“Are you calling me respectable?” he asked, his grin widening.

Where had this man come from? He was certainly not the same one she’d escorted to this chamber last night. “No, I would never dream of it, although I think you care for the title more than you would ever admit.”

“And I might say the same.”

She would ignore that. Thinking about respectability never led anywhere she wished to go. “Are you avoiding my question? If this thing between us could go anywhere you wished, where would that be?” She let her face turn serious. He might not wish to answer the question, and she had little wish to pressure him, but she did need to know.

“I don’t know.” His own grin dropped. “All of the above. Yes, there is even a bit of C. I might not wish to wed you, but I could f*ck you forever.”

And wasn’t that just what every girl dreamed of hearing? Sliding from the bed, she picked up his fallen shirt and wrapped it tight about herself as she went to peek through the closed drapes. The streets were dark, save for the faint glow of the oil lamps, but she did not care. She was looking more into her soul than out the window. She had asked, she could not blame him for answering.

And what did she want anyway? She certainly did not want forever. Although, as she cast a glance at him over her shoulder, admiring the way his long naked form filled the bed, she did have to admit that she too could have f*cked him forever. It was pointless to let his words disappoint her. Madame Rouge was far beyond disappointment.

Pushing her cheeks up in a smile, she turned back. “Forgive me. I am discovering that even I, like other women, can become a trifle emotional after sex. I know it is not what men want to deal with. I think at heart my question was more practical in nature. I refuse to have it known that I have taken a lover. It would, in truth, cause me nothing but difficulties. We could meet here perhaps one more night, but then my staff will begin to wonder why you are willing to pay so much for a room you occupy alone. Neither of us wants that speculation.”