Page 80 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“No!” he said. “I wish to remove your gown.”

Cordelia froze.

“I-I mean,” he said, his voice wavering, “if you consent.”

Her heart ached at the shyness in his eyes, the fear of rejection. She slipped out of the bed and moved toward him, stopping when their bodies met. His hard member brushed against her stomach and he let out a low whimper.

“James,” she whispered, “tonight I shall consent to anything and everything you wish.”

He reached for her neckline and tugged at the laces, slowly unknotting them until her gown lay open, her chest exposed.

“Sweet heaven,” he muttered. “What am I to do?”

“James?”

He colored and averted his gaze, as if ashamed that he’d spoken aloud. She took his hand and lifted it to her breast.

“Ohh…”

He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he squeezed her breast. Then he pulled her neckline fully open, and her nightgown slipped over her form to pool at her feet.

Cordelia’s skin tightened with a combination of want and shyness as his gaze wandered over her naked form. But how could she, a whore, deserve to feel shyness when she had bared her body to so many men?

Perhaps it was because when she lay with James, it meant more than a mere transaction. His regard of her mattered. He mattered.

His tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. Then he took her hand and returned her to the bed. She climbed on, then lay back as he joined her. Then she reached for his manhood and curled her fingers around it, relishing the silken skin and the virile hardness beneath.

He let out a low groan, shuddering as she tightened her grip and ran her hand along his length.

“Oh, sweet heaven, I…”

His voice trailed away as she caressed the tip of him with her thumb. Then he caught her wrist.

“No,” he said, his voice strained as if he gritted his teeth, and she swallowed her shame as tears pricked her eyes.

Tonight he wants to make love to his viscountess—not fuck his whore.

She winced at the profanity, even though it was spoken in her mind. “I-I’m sorry, James, I didn’t think—”

“Do not speak, my love,” he said, leaning over and placing a kiss on her lips. “Much as I relish your touch, tonight is not for you to give me pleasure. Tonight, I wish to give you pleasure.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, my dear one,” he said. “I fear I am not accomplished, so you may have to give me further instruction. Tell me how a man can give you pleasure.”

“I-I have not…” Her throat tightened and she suppressed a sob.

“Cordelia?” His brow furrowed. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No, James,” she whispered. “It’s just… I don’t…” She turned her head away and closed her eyes. “No man has wanted to give me pleasure before.”

He stiffened, then caught her chin and turned her head back. “Look at me, Cordelia.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes to see him staring at her, his eyes the color of midnight.