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“I did no such thing,” she snapped, then realization dawned. He was furious with her, but also unbearably aroused. And now that she knew it, she seemed unable to let it slip away unnoticed. “Does that offend you? That I wanted him to think he had enjoyed every sinful pleasure I can give with my mouth, instead of that I hit him before he could do more than squeeze my breast?”

His gaze veered to her bosom. Angelique looked down. Her gown had slipped again, only a little, but enough to show the swells of her breasts almost to her nipples—which were tightening as he watched, growing hard and aching. She was startled by her own reaction, but didn’t pull up the bodice, even as he continued to stare. And then was equally alarmed by that omission. It was one thing to notice he was aroused, and another to heap fuel on that fire because it aroused her.

“I knew that gown was trouble,” he said in a harsh growl. “Thank God it’s ruined.”

“Oh?” She smoothed one hand down her stomach, drawing the silk taut, causing it to slip another fraction of an inch down her bosom. Her nipples would pop out above her low-cut corset in a moment. “I thought I would have Lisette repair it.”

Nate’s face was hard, his flush visible even in the darkness, and his eyes were fixed on her like a starving animal’s on his prey. She was flaunting herself before a man in the grip of ravenous desire, and instead of turning her back on him, she only wanted to taunt him more. To provoke him. To let his desire meet her own, flowing hot and fast beneath her skin…

The hackney stopped before their leased house with a jerk. Angelique flinched, recalling where she was, who she was, and most importantly, who he was. She must have lost her mind. “I’m going inside,” she said in a rush, and threw open the door to leap out before he could stop her. She hurried up the steps, leaving him to pay the driver. Lisette had left the door unlocked for them, and she was at the top of the stairs before Nate appeared in the doorway.

“Don’t run from me,” he warned, closing the door and shooting the bolt with a crack. “I have more to say to you.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do!” she fired back, leaning over the railing to glare at him.

“You are not in this alone, goddamn it,” he replied furiously, coming up the stairs after her. “Don’t you dare do anything like that again!”

She made a rude gesture with one hand and stalked to her room, twitching her ripped skirt behind her. If she didn’t walk away, she might do something far worse. Nate had flirted with her, but always in a laughing way that made it easy to dismiss. He would have said the same things to any woman, she told herself. He had kissed her, but sweetly, letting her lead him.

This was different. There was a feral, possessive hunger in his gaze tonight, not for any woman, not for the tipsy wife of easy virtue she had pretended to be with Hurst, but for her. He had worried about her. He had run through the garden looking for her, ready to draw his knife in her defense. Then he had listened to her instructions and done what she asked of him to conclude the business, and only after that had he turned to her with unchecked desire in his face and anger for the danger she’d chanced. Even after what she’d said. A tiny voice inside her mind whispered that he was answering every criteria she had wanted in a man, and that little voice scared her most of all.

He followed her, even though she ignored him. He pushed the door back open when she tried to close it in his face. He barged into her room when she tried to bar it with her arm. She backed away from him as he closed the door behind him. Lisette had left a pair of lamps burning, and she could see the controlled focus in his expression.

“Go away.” She turned her back to him and walked away. “I am very tired.”

“Then you should go to bed,” he said, following her. She whirled to tell him to get out, and he put his hands on her shoulders and shoved her onto the bed. Off balance, Angelique sprawled on her back, then fell again when he grabbed her foot as she tried to scramble backward away from him.

“Allow me to help you undress.” He pulled off her slipper and tossed it over his shoulder. She kicked at him, but he just smiled, his eyes lit with a frightening expression as he caught her ankle.

Her stomach clenched, not at his expression, but at her reaction to it. The white-hot desire in his face reflected an answering desire in her belly. Oh God, she wasn’t supposed to want him.

He took advantage of her distraction to flip off her other shoe and throw it aside, then climbed onto the bed atop her. “Still tired?”

Angelique tried not to moan at the feel of him against her. “I am certainly tired of your company!”

He caught one arm, then the other, as he balanced his weight just over her, not enough to crush her at all but enough to hold her in place. It had been a long time since Angelique felt the weight of a man above her, felt the shimmering heat of his desire for her, not for whatever part she played. It had been a long time since she had wanted a man so badly. Heat pooled between her legs, and reckless hunger surged through her veins. Why not—just a quick tumble, just once, to get over this insane urge, this weakness…

But she was afraid. A quick tumble might not be the antidote she wanted. It might be the first taste of addiction.

“Do you really mean that?” he murmured, looking down on her.

“Yes!” But it sounded like a plea, not rejection. Her knees rose alongside his hips, and when she twisted—trying to escape his grip, she told herself—she only managed to rub her breasts against his chest. The friction made her tremble and want to do it again.

“Indeed.” His eyelids dropped as his gaze turned hot and speculative. He lowered his head, his lips whispering down the side of her neck. Once, twice, he moved his hips against hers. Oh God, he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She could feel the swollen length of his cock pressing against her. He could be inside her already if not for the layers of cloth between them. Angelique inhaled sharply and arched her neck as she imagined his trousers gone, her dress gone, his hands and mouth everywhere…

“Then good night.” Abruptly he was gone, rising to his feet and leaving her there, trembling with lust. Angelique raised her head in astonishment as he turned toward the door as if he hadn’t nearly had her right there on her own bed without so much as a coaxing word. She struggled to sit up and then threw the first thing her fingers touched.

The knife made a dull thunk as it embedded in the door, mere inches from his head. He paused, his hand still on the knob, then turned. “You might have taken off my ear.”

“If I had wished to do that, it would be on the floor right now,” she hissed. He was coming back toward her. The pulsing between her legs grew harder.

“You play a dangerous game.” He stripped off his coat and let it fall to the floor.

“I never play,” she taunted him. A strange sort of smile—a little wistful, a little sad, a little proud—crossed his face as he tossed aside his waistcoat. Slowly he paced toward her, still watching her with that odd expression.

“You should,” he whispered a second before he lunged at her. Angelique was ready but he was faster, and he pulled her close, into his arms, holding her despite her attempts to push him away. “No more weapons,” he murmured against her neck. “No more games. Just… this.”

Chapter Fifteen