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“Be that as it may, the choice, always, is yours.”

Kenton pulled her toward him and lowered his head to hers.

“I will have you, Alessandra, tonight and every night, for as long as you’ll have me back.”

Their discussion was at an end.

And now she would know, for the first time, the true Kenton Morley.

* * *

This time,he would get it right.

He undressed her first with his eyes and then with his hands—slowly, methodically, careful not to touch even an inch of flesh. Kenton would not be undone by the feel of her. When the night was over, Alessandra would know a proper seduction. When she stood in front of him in nothing but a purple lace bra and panties, he reminded himself not to react. Instead, Kenton started to tear off his own clothing, his approach shifting to one of haste, as he tore off the hoodie and T-shirt, then his jeans. He never took his eyes from her. The soft sound of his movements reverberated throughout the old, poorly insulated room. Moonlight streamed in from the front windows, offering plenty of muted light for what was to come.

Relishing in Alessandra’s not-so-subtle perusal of his body, Kenton waited for her to finish. Then, reaching out to the center of her bra, he gripped it with two fingers and pulled her toward him.

“This has to go,” he said, spinning her around.

When he began to unclasp the offending garment, Alessandra said, “I was afraid you’d tear it off, and I’d have no bras left.”

“Once,” he said, tossing the bra aside, “I met a woman so discomfited by undergarments that she prohibited her ladies at court from wearing any.”

He ran a finger from her neck down to her waist, smiling as she shivered.

“Her ladies?”

With both hands, he reached around to cup her breasts. “Catherine de Medici, the wife of a French king.”

Using his thumbs, Kenton silently promised her an evening of slow seduction.

She dropped her head back, encouraging him to continue.

“Were you with her? This queen?”

He smiled at Alessandra’s back, pressing himself against her.

“I was not,” he said, allowing one hand to temporarily pause its ministrations to move her hair aside. Resuming the gentle assault, he pressed his lips against her neck. Though he would not bite her yet, the anticipation of his bite did not seem to unnerve Alessandra. Relaxed, she laid her head on his shoulder and reached back to grasp his upper thighs.

Her hands, like two iron brands, ensured he quickened the pace. Slipping one hand down to her waist, he let it drift downward until he finally found his goal.

“Were you with another queen?”

As he slipped his finger inside, Kenton found it difficult to concentrate. It took a moment for her words to register.

“Another time, another place. Yes.”

He’d told her he’d never lie to her, and he wouldn’t, even if this was not an opportune time to discuss their past sexual partners. Still, he’d said nothing was to be off-limits between them, and this was her choice. Of course, there was one thing they had not yet discussed.

Alessandra knew the one thing he and his brothers had been trying to determine for seven hundred years.

But he knew better than to ask her. And right now, right here, with this woman, he wasn’t sure if he wished to know the truth any longer.

“Was she good?” Alessandra asked, demanding his attention.

“No better than any other,” he said, pressing his palm against her and ensuring it lay just right as he moved. “And certainly not as good as this.”

He brought her to climax. It was a bit sooner than he’d have liked, but Kenton would be happy to spend eternity showing this woman how different she was than the others.