"No," she blurted.
She didn't expect him to believe her. Given their encounters to date, he had plenty of reason to think her a heartless trollop. To believe what Ashcroft had said of her. The notion thickened her throat.
"Why were you alone with the viscount, then? I won't be put off this time, Marianne. First Leach and now this. What is this damned secret of yours—what could possibly move an otherwise intelligent woman to recklessly endanger herself time and again?"
Emotions closed in on her, propelling her to her feet. To her surprise, Kent allowed her to pass, and she went to the fireplace, buying herself time to think. What would Kent think of the fact that she had a bastard? Would he blame her for her indiscretion? Would he still care to involve himself in her affairs if he knew the sins she'd committed—about her little girl who suffered to this day because of her failings?
Licking her lips, Marianne watched the flames leap in the grate. "I've told you I'm not having an affair with Ashcroft. That should suffice—"
"That doesn't begin to suffice."
She spun around as Kent came toward her. He kept advancing, his pace steady, leaving her no option but to retreat. Heartbeats later, he had her backed against the wall next to the mantel. His arms caged her. She should have been angry, afraid. Instead, she... yearned. He touched her wounded cheek, and she trembled from head to toe.
"What are you afraid of? Tell me, Marianne." Though his touch was gentle, his features were intent, harshly controlled. She understood why criminals would want to confess all their sins in the wake of those bright, piercing eyes. "I won't hurt you. I want only to help. Trust me."
"I... can't," she said helplessly. Wanting.
"You can," he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
His warmth flowed into her, melting away her resistance. Dear God, how she had missed this—craved his kiss since the moment the last one had ended. He drew her in with his taste, the sustenance of his strength. His wiry length crushed her against the wall, and nothing had ever felt more right. Sighing, she pulled at his cravat, the buttons of his waistcoat. She needed to be closer, needed his heat to banish the chill of the past and to fuel the fire of the moment.
Wordlessly, he stepped back and stripped off his waistcoat. Yanked the shirt over his head. The smooth, sleek muscles of his shoulders gleamed like polished bronze in the candlelight. She touched his chest, delighting in the contrasting textures of coarse hair and hard sinew. His heart beat strong and steadfast beneath her palm. Her gaze dipped to the ridges of his abdomen, following the tantalizing line of hair to where it disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. At the sight of the straining bulge beneath, syrupy warmth flooded her sex.
"Your turn." Though his voice was stern, faint lines fanned from his eyes. "Face the wall, Marianne, and let me undress you."
His command sent a delicious ripple through her blood. She'd never been one to follow orders and yet... after an instant's hesitation, she obeyed. She could allow herself the luxury of this one small surrender. She turned her head, her cheek brushing against the silk-covered wall. Each breath pushed her breasts outward, skimming her stiff nipples against the hard surface. She stood there, aroused, in an agony of anticipation.
The hot mouth upon her nape made her start. A moan flew from her lips as he licked and sucked the sensitive patch of skin, gnawing gently on the delicate tendon of her shoulder. Her eyes closed as his fingers worked nimbly along her spine, undoing her. Layer after layer whispered to the floor. She shivered, clad in only her stockings and garters.
"Beautifulselkie, will you let me pleasure you?" he murmured.
"Yes," she sighed. "Just hurry."
His husky laugh rasped over her senses. "There's no need to rush. We have all night." His hands closed over hers and brought them over her head; he placed her palms against the wall. "Keep your hands there, sweeting."
In this position, her nerves seemed stretched to a new sensitivity. Sensation amplified: the air wafted in a sensual caress against her back, the wallpaper scraping gently against her taut nipples. A feeling of freedom washed over her. Strangely, she felt more powerful than she ever had. There was nothing to keep her here. No bonds, no threats, nothing to stop her from removing her hands and ending the interlude. Yet she was making the choice to yield to this man—to take what she herself wanted.
He kissed her shoulder blades one by one, his hands finding her breasts. He played with the buds, pinching and rolling them until she arched back against him, gasping his name.
"Enough with games. Kent, I need younow—"
"Keep your hands on the wall," he reminded her.
She pouted when his hands left her aching bosoms. But her pique dissolved into molten arousal when he wedged his thigh between her legs, widening her stance. A wicked beat took hold of her pulse, echoed by the insistent throb of her flesh as she rode the masculine ridge. She rubbed herself against him, a sinuous friction that only fed her fires. She needed more pressure, an angle that she couldn't quite get to on her own.
"Want more?" His gravelly voice scraped against her ear. His hands held her hips, supporting her as she wriggled against his leg in helpless pleasure. "Tell me, Marianne. I'll give you whatever you need."
"Touch me," she breathed.
He removed his leg, leaving her bereft. Then his lips touched the top of her spine, following the curve with tender persistence. Her lungs strained as he lowered to his knees behind her, his thumbs caressing the sensitive inside of her thighs, spreading her further. When he nipped her on the buttock, her breath stopped altogether.
"You're pretty here. White and tender as a cake."
He soothed the bite with kisses that turned her knees to water. Then his mouth was everywhere, tasting, sucking, driving her wild. Shamelessly, she thrust her bottom out, giving him access to anything he wanted. He licked her, plumbing her intimate folds, making her fingers curl against the wall. Then his tongue dragged upward, sliding along her crease to circle a place too wicked to name. The sizzling flicks around that sensitive rim startled a moan from her throat.
"Too much?" he said hoarsely.
"I can't take anymore," she gasped. "Please, enough playing. Just… do it."
