Home > Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover (The Rules of Scoundrels #4)(30)

Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover (The Rules of Scoundrels #4)(30)
Author: Sarah MacLean

His heart pounded for this maddening, mysterious creature. He’d never wanted anyone like he wanted her. Even as he knew she was a terrible wager, worse than all the ones he had made on the floor of the casino beyond. Out there, he risked only money.

Here, he risked something much more serious.

“Don’t tempt me,” he whispered in the darkness, pulling her hands from him.

“Or what?” The question was a lick of fire.

“Or you shall get that for which you ask.”

He felt the curve of her smile at his cheek. “’Tis a lovely promise.”

He turned his head and caught her lips once more, lifting her against him, adoring the way her arms came around his neck and she pressed herself to him, giving in to him. Allowing him the lead.

He pressed her to the wall, fitting himself between her thighs, cursing her diaphanous silk skirts. He wanted her closer. Open. Hot. Wet.

His.

She signaled her pleasure with a little, lovely sound, and he deepened the kiss, stroking long and soft until she followed his movements with her own. His hand came along her side in a long caress, his thumb finding the swell of her breast at the edge of her gown. Unable to resist the temptation, he slipped his fingers beneath the silk and lifted her breast from its padded confines, running the edge of his thumb over the straining tip.

He lifted his mouth from hers. “I would give anything for more light.”

She arched against the caress. “Why?”

“I want to see the color of this gorgeous thing. I want to watch it strain for me.” She bit her lip at the words. “Does it ache?”

There was a long moment of silence before she replied, the truth coming on a whisper. “Yes.”

He heard something there, in the single, stunning word. Something like embarrassment. There was no room for that here. “Don’t be ashamed of what you like.” He punctuated the words with a gentle pinch.

“I like that,” she said, the words forced from her.

“As do I,” he said, his lips coming to the high swell of her breast. “As do I,” he repeated just before he let his tongue slide around the straining tip.

She tasted as good as she smelled.

“Anna?”

They both froze, remembering where they were.

He lifted his head. Met her wide eyes.

“Shit.” She whispered, and he did not have time to be surprised by the curse. After all, she’d taken the words right from his lips. “It’s Temple.”

Regret flared. And irritation. He let her down, setting her feet on the ground.

“Don’t come in!” Georgiana cried, Anna disappeared.

“A moment, Temple,” he said at the same time, unable to tear his gaze from the pretty pale globe of her breast.

“Too late,” Temple said, closer than before.

Duncan turned to protect her from view, facing the Duke of Lamont with a calm he did not feel. Later, he would wonder at the squeak that escaped Georgiana’s lips, as though she’d never been found in such a situation before. Perhaps it was Temple who caused her embarrassment, but whatever it was, she was furious. “Get out!”

“There was some concern that you’d been manhandled,” Temple said calmly. “I see it was not without merit.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “As you can see.”

Temple met his gaze. “West,” he said, “You certainly have made yourself comfortable.”

Duncan lifted one shoulder. Let it drop. “It’s my club.”

“Not your woman, though.” Duncan had no doubt that Chase would hear of this before the night was through.

“Not yours, either,” Georgiana retorted.

Temple looked to her, and Duncan moved to block the other man’s view. “Give the lady some privacy.”

The Duke of Lamont’s eyes widened for a moment. “Shall I turn around?”

“That would suit me well, as I wouldn’t like to have to call you out.”

“Afraid you’d lose?” The duke was London’s winningest bare-knuckle boxer.

“Afraid I’d win,” Duncan said. “I’d like to continue to call you a friend when this unfortunate event is through.”

Temple nodded once and turned his back on them. “Put away your – bits – Anna.”

She exhaled in pure exasperation. “You know, you could take your leave if you are embarrassed, Temple.”

“No chance,” the duke said, “I’m offering my protection.”

“She doesn’t need it.” And damn it, if she did need it, Duncan could give it to her.

Not that he wanted to.

Liar.

Temple turned just enough to meet Duncan’s gaze. “No?”

“No,” he said.

“No,” she said at the same time, yanking up her bodice, sending a thread of disappointment through Duncan. “You may turn around.”

“I’m not offering it to you,” the duke said, turning and lifting his chin in Duncan’s direction. “I’m offering it to him.”

West didn’t care for the words. “I am well able to protect myself in this situation.”

“You haven’t the faintest idea what this situation is,” the duke said. Duncan did not like the ominous tone in the words.

“Get out!” Georgiana fairly yelled.

Surprisingly, Temple did as he was bid.

They stood in silence for a long moment, Duncan trying to convince himself that he was grateful for Temple’s interruption. Grateful for the fact that the evening had not gone any further.

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