Definitely her lips.
“If there is nothing improper about the book, you will not mind allowing me to see it,” he reasoned smoothly. “Let go of your hold upon it, Grace darling.”
“I am not your darling,” she growled at him in her husky voice.
And damn him, but he could not help but to imagine hearing that dulcet tone say wicked things to him. Naughty, sinful words an innocent lady should never speak.
He tugged. “The book, Grace.”
“You are insufferable,” she said, sounding suddenly breathless.
Breathless, he could work with.
Excellent.
He was finally piercing her armor.
One more tug, and the book was his. A glance at the cover confirmed his suspicions.
“The Tale of Love,” he read aloud, before flicking his glance back to Grace. “Just as I thought.”
Her color heightened. He wondered how far that delectable flush extended. But then he forced that thought from his mind. His prick was already hard enough. His breeches too tight. No thoughts of peeling her from her gown.
He needed her acquiescence.
And not, alas, in the bedchamber.
“Are you satisfied now?” she asked. “You were right. Now please do give me my book back.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully, a new plan forming. “I do not think I will. This is not fit reading material for an innocent lady. I am honor-bound to deliver the book to your brother and inform him one of his house guests dared to gift you with it.”
Her lips compressed. “Do not do that, Lord Aylesford. Please.”
“Call me Rand, Grace.” He could not deny the appeal of hearing his given name on her sweet pink lips.
“No.” She frowned.
Even her frown made him want to kiss her. Blast it all. He could not recall when he had last been so attracted to a woman.
“If you want this book, you truly ought to be more biddable,” he told her smugly.
This was his revenge for the minx telling him to eat pie.
And he was enjoying it. Quite thoroughly.
“Biddable,” she repeated, her lip curled. “Such a word has not, nor will it ever, be used to describe me, my lord.”
“Rand,” he persisted.
She moved suddenly, attempting to snatch the book from him. But he was quick, and he held it aloft, over her head. His formidable height had always stood him in good stead. Even rising to her toes, she could not reach it.
But fortunately, rising to her toes meant her body was pressed against his. Her breasts crushed into his chest. The scent of a summer garden hit him. He could not resist finding the small of her back with his free hand and holding her there. His cock was rigid, pressing into her belly.
A gentleman would have made an effort to hide his reaction to her.
Fortunately, he had never been a gentleman.
Her lips parted, her eyes going wide as they met his gaze. Understanding dawned in her eyes. “My lord…”
