There are no requirements of you beyond that which you desire.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had called her bold and intuitive. She’d said Charlotte would know what to do.
What did Charlotte want of this man? Of this moment?
Did she wish to humiliate him? Shame him? Demean him?
Just a week ago, she’d thought that’s what she wanted. But now…there was a different urging inside her. She had to be honest with herself and admit that their conversation at the park had significantly changed her opinion of him. And there was a distinct part of her that wanted to offer him a moment’s ease from the weight of his obligations.
But that wasn’t all. Mostly, what she really wanted was to see the real him. She wanted to expose the man behind the title. Prove that his wealth and status were nothing but a façade. That there existed some vulnerability and passion beneath the arrogance. He was nothing more and nothing less than any other creature in existence—dependent upon his instincts and his primal urges.
Excitement gripped her.
Something had driven him—or inspired him—to come back to her. She was determined to discover what it was.
“Remove your clothes,” she ordered as she started to circle around him. That first night, she’d done it to disconcert him. Tonight, she wanted an opportunity to admire him from all angles as he stripped himself of the unnecessary clothing. She wanted toseehim. The man, not the marquess. And she wanted him to feel vulnerable under her gaze. Vulnerable but accepting. Allowing. Obedient.
“In this room,” she continued, “your will belongs to me. Your thoughts and actions and needs belong to me.”
Once again, she was surprised that he simply dropped his garments to the floor. The casual disregard was an unexpected contradiction to his very proper demeanor. No doubt, he was accustomed to having a valet pick up after him and had never personally worried about keeping his clothing in good order.
She expected the thought to remind her of her dislike for the man and his privilege, but it didn’t quite hit like it might have a few days ago. He was a product of his environment and circumstances, just as anyone else.
As he shed his coat, then neckcloth and shirt, she nearly sighed to finally see the warm, golden expanse of his muscled back. At least in terms of his physical form, he displayed none of the traits of a pampered lord. His body was honed with trim muscle and economic strength. The shadow of his spine fairly called to the drift of her fingers.
She didn’t resist. Sidling closer, she lifted her gloved hand to trail a velvet fingertip down that curved hollow. He tensed to suppress the shiver that traveled through his body but she saw it anyway.
Her belly fluttered.
She wanted more ofthat. The silent involuntary response. The delicate awakening of sensation. The acceptance and acknowledgment that it was her touch which provided these subtle pleasures.
“In this room,” she murmured thickly as her touch drifted across his shoulders, the words slipping from her lips without conscious thought, “thisbelongs to me.”
He tensed, the muscles going absurdly taut beneath his smooth skin. His neck straining with an obvious desire to turn and look at her. She was amazed he didn’t give in to the urge.
Amazed and inordinately pleased.
She continued around him, trailing her fingertip along his collarbone until she stood directly before him. His eyelids remained heavy over his lowered gaze. His hands were held stiffly at his sides.
Feeling bold and wicked, Charlotte pressed her finger to the pulse at the base of his throat. “In this room,” she repeated in a sultry whisper as she slowly slid a caress down the center of hischest, over the subtle ripple of his abdomen to his navel, “this belongs to me.”
A sound emanated softly from his chest. Like a hum or the purr of a great cat. His mouth opened on an inhale and his lashes fluttered briefly. With her heart jolting in unexpected panic, Charlotte quickly pressed her finger to his lips.
Her next words were firm and unforgiving. “In this room, mon grand, you say only what I command you to say.”
There was a moment when she thought for certain he would deny her. His body hardened. His jaw tensed. The shape of his lips burned against the touch of her finger.
But then he exhaled. Slowly, through his nose. And the tension melted from his body as smoothly as the air left his lungs.
Chapter Ten
An unholy satisfactionwarmed her blood and curved her mouth into a subtle smile. Was it possible to enjoy this too much? She suddenly felt terribly wicked. And powerful. And fascinated.
Removing her finger from his lips, she stepped back again, requiring a certain distance so she could soak up the sight of him.
He was tall and strong. His toned form created delicious contours of light and shadow. Though he’d relaxed by a certain minimal degree, she suspected he was capable of more. His arrogance—his assumed superiority—was still too prevalent. She suddenly, desperately wanted him naked before her. Stripped bare. But she doubted her ability to retain the necessary command should he do so. In exposing his weaknesses, she was quickly coming to understand her own.
The man’s sensuality was a palpable thing—restrained and carefully concealed by social artifice and proper demeanor. But there was no denying its existence. Not when it was fully exposed. Not when it called to her on such a primal level. Not when she sensed how powerful he really was should he give free rein to the instincts he denied.
