The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) Read Online Free PDF

stop to think.
    In one movement, she shifted forward boldly and slipped one palm around the back of the gargoyle’s neck. She’d never touched a man in such a way before, and panic threatened to overwhelm her. She fought it down.
    “ Amabo, mei delicii ,” she murmured against his ear. The words of an ancient love poem: I shall make love to you, my delight .
    His neck jerked against her hand, but he seemed too surprised to do more. His eyes widened; his breath puffed against her cheek.
    Forcing herself to gaze into his eyes, she brushed her fingers up towards his nape, weaving them into the thickness of his hair, while she murmured, “ Domi maneas paresque nobis novem continuas fututiones .” Stay at home and prepare for our nine continuous . . . Her cheeks flamed as she thought on the translation of the crude final word.
    He gasped.
    Then she shocked herself as well: she pressed her lips against his, drawing him closer with the hand tangled in his hair.
    His lips were soft, and warm, not the cold marble she’d imagined he was made of. They parted slightly, and his breath pushed into hers, and then it was more than touch, it was taste and smell—the tang of the liquor he’d drunk, and something else rich and dark and hot and undeniably him . An intoxicating combination that drew the whole focus of her body to the joining of their mouths, then somehow rippled out again, sending unexpected waves of sensation through the peaks of her breasts, through her belly, through her limbs.
    The gargoyle made a low sound in his throat. A sound that didn’t seem quite like a protest. That didn’t seem to be under his control at all.
    At that, she pulled back, breaking the kiss and dropping her hand from his neck as her heart galloped wildly in her chest. But she’d clearly achieved the effect she desired. Helm and Mawbry grinned broadly. The gargoyle stared at her in a rather stunned manner, his eyes having quite lost their coolness. Heat rose in a wave from his body.
    Then anger snapped back across his features. “Point taken, Miss Covington,” he snarled. He sat back, and cocked a very aristocratic eyebrow. “Though I think few courtesans can quote Catullus in the original.”
    “This one can,” she said, smiling. Ridiculous triumph swelled in her chest.
    For once, Lord Gargoyle seemed to be at a loss for anything to say.
     

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    Sebastian had survived three days with that maddening little governess in his house, and he began to think he was making some progress. He might, at least eventually, be able to look at Rachel Covington without his lungs tightening so sharply he couldn’t breathe.
    He made himself enter the chamber assigned to her, as usual not bothering to knock. The habit irritated her, which suited him fine. Petty, but it soothed him a bit every time he nettled her, made her straighten her spine in that nun-like way, and jab out her chin to pierce him with her icy governess glare.
    It neutralized the memory of that damned unsettling kiss she’d given him.
    Better still, it reminded him she wasn’t Sal.
    Not a bit like Sal.
    Well, he really should have knocked this time.
    The girl had her back to him, lifting the weight of her loosened hair from her neck as her lady’s maid—Sal’s maid, Jenny—fastened her into a gown. A gown he recognized as one of Sal’s favorites. Not Miss Covington’s usual serviceable woolen gray, but a plum silk which skimmed lustrously over her body and left her arms bare and glowing in the lamplight.
    He froze.
    The air went thick and cold and hard to breathe as wet sand.
    Sal . He was looking at Sal.
    Her hair gleamed fire-bronze as it always had, though it was a good deal longer than he was used to. He recognized the exact shape of her slender back, and the familiar white length of her fingers as they lifted her curls. The precise angle of her neck, the crook of her elbow, the lush curve of her hip that had driven many otherwise-intelligent men to