His Wicked Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page B

woman, slip into her bed and wrap myself around her.” His warm brandy-tinged breath fanned her face. Tingles of awareness spiked through her body and she stifled a gasp.
    He raised a hand, drawing one elegant finger along her cheekbone. “Your face is warm. Have I made you blush? I’d like to make other parts of you blush as well.” Lucien took the candle holder from her and set it on a shelf.
    Horatia’s knees shook. She stepped back and her head collided with the bookshelf behind her. Lucien closed the distance between them and braced his hands on either side of her face. His lips were inches from hers.
    “Shall I kiss you, Horatia? I find you hard to resist when you look up at me with those dark eyes. They are begging me to kiss you. Did you know that?” His voice was a soft growl that made her breasts heavy and her nipples harden.
    Incapable of speech, Horatia managed to shake her head. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and drag his mouth to hers. She ached to run her hands through his dark red hair. Endless nights had been spent imagining what this moment would be like, when he’d be close enough to touch, to kiss.
    Something deep inside her tore in anguish. He wasn’t meant for her. Everyone knew he took only experienced, beautiful women to his bed. Lucien would never really consider her that way. She was acceptably attractive, but no diamond of the first water. With nothing to offer Lucien, he must be teasing her the way any rake did an innocent. He was the serpent, offering her carnal knowledge. Everything she wanted and couldn’t have. It was an awful thing to be in love with such a devil.
    Lucien moved his lips to her ear, using a finger to trace a loose pattern along her collarbone, down her chest and towards the valley between her breasts.
    She inhaled, her breasts thrusting upward. “You’ve been drinking, my lord,” she said. When he teased a finger below the fabric of her bodice, brushing a tight nipple, she gasped.
    The grin he gave her was one of pure sin. “I certainly have…”
    Horatia reached up and tore his hands away from her bodice. She tried to knock his other arm out of her way to leave. “How dare you!”
    Lucien grabbed hold of her, dragged her back against the bookcase and trapped her with his body. He fisted a hand through the loose coils of her hair, dragging her head back. Her eyes rose to meet his. A hunger churned in his gaze, swirling in eddies of changing colors.
    “Tell me to let go of you,” he begged in a ragged whisper. “Tell me.”
    She stared at him, unable to voice a protest.
    “Christ. I’m not a saint, woman. I can’t… Oh to hell with it.”
    The warmth of his breath tickled her lips before he devoured her neck in a slow languid kiss. Pools of wet heat built up between her legs and his tongue flicked out against her skin as he tasted her. She moaned. Lucien slid his hand down over her bottom, catching her in his grasp, jerking her hard against his stiff shaft.
    Her legs shook against him, loose and unprotesting as he parted them with his thigh. He dragged her up the length of his leg so her toes barely touched the ground. The movement sent shockwaves of excitement through her and made her inhale sharply. Her hands fell to his shoulders, seeking to hold on to him. His lips found hers again and her palms skated up his neck into his hair, the strands whispering over her skin. She dug her fingers in and tugged on his hair. He growled deep in his throat and kissed her harder.
    Saying no to him was the furthest thing from her mind. There was nothing beyond this moment—his kiss, the sliding touch of his palms, his fingers digging possessively into her flesh, cupping her bottom until a staccato rhythm throbbed deep inside her. It beat against his hard, muscular thigh, flooding her with awareness. She tried to rock against him, to create more friction. Anything to get closer to him, to satisfy her need for something she didn’t fully understand.
    “My