He grabbed her jaw with both hands and pressed his lips harder on hers, continuing to run his tongue over them.Nothing.He growled again, louder this time, and she flinched.An ugly satisfaction hummed through him.Good, she deserved to be scared.Women didn’t resist him.Women didn’tmanagehim.
He pulled back, caught those blue eyes, darker now, pupils blown wide.Gave her the opportunity to say no.She was denying him in every way.But she didn’t say the word, just stared back at him.
In challenge.
Tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb, he popped it free from its prison.He latched onto it with his teeth, biting gently at first.She inhaled deeply through her nose.She was putting on a great fight, not letting him in.He soothed her bottom lip with his tongue, and an unsteady breath fled her.Oh, how he wanted to sink his teeth into her.Mark her.
Pushing at the seam of her mouth, he tried to gain entry again, but she held firm.He pressed into her harder, without success, his mouth grinding against hers.His body was moments from combusting, his frustration a flame licking up his skin.
He shoved away from her.“Bloody fuck!”
Derek scowled at her, breathing hard.She leaned heavily against the door, glaring right back at him, hands fisted, panting heavily.Who in the bloody hell did she think she was?And for the life of him, he couldn’t tell if she was affected or not.Flushed with desire…or defiance?Either way, she was refusing him.Like she thought to besthim.
He was the fucking Marquess of Dunmore.She should be begging him for this opportunity.
Stalking up to her, he demanded, “You will let me in.”
With a growl, he grabbed the back of her head and crushed his mouth to hers, slamming his body into hers so she was caged against the door.He could feel her body trembling against his.He knew she could feel he was half-hard, pressing against her.Was sure it overwhelmed and frightened her.Right now, his poor prick was so confused.With the frustration of denial, it didn’t know whether to be eager or discouraged.Derek loved…prolonging the tension in bed.
He ground his hips against hers, and her hands slid to his chest.Disappointment sank heavy in his gut.She was going to push him away, and though it pained him to lose, he’d honor her wish.
Her fingers dug into his flesh, nails biting into his skin.
His heart sped up to a frantic pace.
She.Latched.On.
Oh, but this woman had iron running through her veins.She continued to deny him entry.If he could just show her a taste of what it would be like if she let him in, he would have her as malleable as pastry dough.
He finally worked his thumb to her jaw, pushing hard, forcing her open.He would have his way.Delving inside her, he groaned low in his throat at the feel of her wet heat.Finally.As he explored her, his frustration mounted again.She was as still and impenetrable as a stone wall.If her racing pulse wasn’t currently pattering under his palm, he would have thought she wasn’t a flesh and blood woman.She did nothing.Her tongue didn’t move.Her lips remained still.
He broke away and glared at her.They stood there, eyes warring, their rough exhalations echoing through the salon.And then, the chit had the nerve to slowly lift her eyebrow at him.
Stepping back, he laughed cynically.“I know you’re not unmoved.You’re merely stubborn.”He said it with more conviction than he intended, unsure of whom he was trying to convince.
Without saying a word, she lifted her arm and swiped the back of her wrist against her mouth.He narrowed his eyes.The impudent little piece of baggage.He growled, his lips pulling back.God, she made him feel like an animal.
“Go.I’m through with you.For now.”He waved a dismissive gesture in her direction and turned to collect his clothes.He called over his shoulder.“I will send a note tomorrow to schedule a call to begin planning your rise in society.And we will revisit…this.You may have resisted me this time, but you can only hold out for so long.”
The doorsnickedas it unlatched.He turned—the woman swinging the door open a discreet amount, about to make her escape.He snapped his fingers at her.“Name.”
She turned her head back to look at him, the force of her glare burning him with its heat.
“Miss Olivia Forester.”In a swirl of haughty skirts, she left.
He grinned.Her skirts may have been haughty, but her words had been breathless.
12
Livy
Livyquietlyshutthedoor and collapsed against it, sliding to the floor.Her eyes sank closed, and she sucked in a choppy breath.Her heart was a racket of chaos in her chest.It had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed not to respond to the Marquess of Dunmore.What was wrong with her?
You love Warren.You want Warren.She didn’t want Lord Dunmore.He was exasperating, honestly.But her body said differently.
She clenched her fists and rocked her head back and forth on the hard oak door.Her entire body trembled.Was there something inherently wrong with her?His aggression had awakened something inside of her.The growling, the thrusting, the imprisoning her with his body… The fire in her blood threatened to ignite again.She had feared it would consume her, a blaze of feeling so fierce it had been painful to refuse to give in to it.
Heavens, when he’d bitten her lip?All her muddled brain could manage wasI hope he does it so hard I bleed.It had been thrilling, denying him.The challenge.
