Wicked Temptation (Regency Sinners 6)(8)

She gasped. “You still expect me to wish you a good afternoon after you have insulted me?”

“By telling the truth?” He carefully placed his glass on the mantel of the fireplace before adding softly, “Do not say I did not warn you.”

Pru took a wary step back as the viscount stepped forward, knowing it had been unwise of her to continue to challenge Romney when he had already warned her there would be “consequences” for her actions. Quite what form those consequences might take, she had no idea, but neither did she like the expression of intent she recognized in Romney’s eyes. Those scars running down the length of his left cheek and the side of his neck added to his appearance of menace.

Scars Pru knew Romney had received while trying to rescue Cilla and Worthington from the burning carriage. Something she should, despite his efforts having been in vain, have thanked him for before now. “I owe you my gratitude for your attempts to save my sister’s life.” She spoke softly, her gaze lowered to the carpet.

“I am only sorry I was not successful in that endeavor.”

Pru gave an abrupt nod. “As am I.”

“Does that mean the two of us can be friends again now?”

She raised startled lids. “I do not believe we were ever friends, my lord.”

He nodded grimly. “Perhaps that is because the desire between the two of us remains…unsatisfied.”

Pru lowered her lashes again, swallowing before speaking. “I would rather not discuss something of such an intimate nature as that.”

The viscount snorted. “On the basis that if we do not talk about it that perhaps it will go away?”

“Yes,” she answered vehemently.

“And has it?” he taunted. “Has it gone away, Pru?”

He was suddenly standing far too close for Pru’s comfort. So close, in fact, she was aware of the heat of his body and that invasive aroma of sandalwood, lemons, and earthy maleness she had come to associate with him.

Her insides heated, the bodice of her gown suddenly feeling much too tight, constricting her breathing and making her conscious of the swollen ache of her nipples. Her cotton drawers chaffed against the slickly wet lips between her thighs and caused her to fidget in discomfort. The result of that was to have the cotton material rub against the hardened and highly sensitive bud above those plump nether lips.

Was this the desire Titus talked of so scandalously?

Pru knew that it was. She had been attracted to and desired Titus before the accident, and, despite everything that had happened, she knew she was still attracted to and desired him now.

She ached for more of his kisses.

Throbbed for the intimate touch of his hands.

To feel again, as he had made her feel when he’d last kissed and touched her.

Since that protective barrier about her emotions had been shattered, Pru had been filled with a restless longing for Titus to use his hands and mouth to satisfy the desire raging through her aroused body. To be able to forget, even for a moment, how alone and lonely she truly was.

Titus watched the emotions flitting across Pru’s expressive face.

The alarm.

Followed by confusion.

Then the heated glitter of desire burning in her eyes as she looked at him.

The blush of arousal on her cheeks.

The plumping of red and moist lips.

Would those lips between her thighs be as plump, Titus wondered, and found himself licking his lips in anticipation of the sweet taste of Pru’s desire.

For him.

Yes, much as Pru might not want to feel the emotion, he knew she did still desire him.

As he desired her.

But he had spent much time in the Germaine sisters’ company before the accident, and as such, he felt he had come to know the two of them quite well. One thing he felt absolutely sure of was that both of them were still virgins.

Not that it need prevent him and Pru from being intimate together. There were other things, many other intimacies he and Pru could enjoy together, which would not result in the loss of that physical evidence of innocence.

But first… “When did you last cry?”

She looked startled by the question. “I do not understand.”

“When did you last express your grief by crying?”

She swallowed. “Never.”

He nodded. It was the answer he had been expecting. “Bend yourself over the front of this table.” He shifted the piles of books to the floor before stepping back.

Pru’s eyes widened incredulously. “And why on earth should I want to do that?”

“Because I instructed you to do so,” the viscount rasped. “You may finish the last of your brandy first, if you wish,” he added dryly.

Even the smell of the strong alcohol was enough to make Pru feel slightly intoxicated on top of the single sip she had already taken.

But it was not the possibility of becoming more intoxicated which now bothered her, but Romney’s instruction she prostrate herself over the table.

For what purpose?

There was only one reason that Pru could think of. Well…two, but she doubted Titus intended ravishing her across a piece of furniture in his library. The other reason was even less appealing. “Are you intending to spank me?” She did not quite manage to keep the alarm from her tone.

“Oh yes,” he confirmed with satisfaction.