Free Lord and Lady Spy by Shana Galen Page A

her, his eyes were liquid silver in the darkness. His face was a plane of light and shadow, and a wicked smile played on his lips.
    She opened her mouth, tried to speak, to say no. Her mind was still screaming at her to tell him no, to stop this plunge into madness. Instead, she stepped back slightly and arched her back, offering herself to him.
    Lord, what was she thinking? Why was she behaving so recklessly? She should be pushing him away. But when his hands circled her waist and he lowered his mouth to her breasts, all she could do was whimper with pleasure.
    His tongue stroked her, slicked over her sensitive skin, teasing her nipples until they ached with pleasure. He attended to one and then the other, his skillful fingers—he’d always had such skillful fingers—ministering to that ache. And just when she knew she couldn’t take any more, his lips brought her to new heights. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked.
    Sophia cried out at the pleasure slamming through her. She had known it would be like this. Had known when she finally surrendered to him there would be no going back.
    And still her mind screamed warnings. She knew where this could lead. She knew the heartbreak of that empty cradle. Sophia tried to heed the warnings, but the feel of Adrian’s lips on her was too much. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could only experience.
    And then he claimed her mouth again, and she tasted on his lips the orange-scented soap she used. “I want you,” he said between kisses. “And I know you want me, too.”
    She shook her head, her mind making a last bid for restraint. “I don’t. We can’t.”
    “Yes, we can, Sophia,” Adrian said. “We should.”
    “No, we sh—” she began, but she was having trouble concentrating. His lips were nuzzling her neck, and she couldn’t seem to form the words she wanted.
    “I’m your husband,” he murmured, his hands pulling her close so she could feel that glorious erection against her belly again. “Trust me. Obey me. Kiss—”
    But it was too late. Sophia’s spine went rigid, and she pushed back.
    Away from him.
    With a quick yank, she covered herself, holding the silk material of her gown over her breasts.
    “What the hell—?”
    “Get out,” she spat. “Get out now.”
    He stared at her, appearing perplexed. Ha! She should have guessed he’d be an excellent actor.
    “Sophia.” He reached for her, but she stepped out of his grasp. “What’s wrong? I only wanted—”
    “To control me? To bend me to your will? To take my place in the Barbican group?”
    Now his expression hardened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Oh, I’m sure you don’t.” She backed up again, wanting to put as much space between them as possible. As though physical space would diminish the pain lancing through her at his betrayal. “‘I’m your husband,’” she mimicked him. “‘Obey me.’ Next you’ll be telling me to stay home while you steal my position in the Barbican group, just like you stole Ducos.”
    A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I didn’t steal Ducos from you, and I wasn’t going to tell you to stay home.”
    She raised a brow.
    “All right.” He spread his arms. “I wasn’t going to tell you that right now. I honestly wasn’t thinking of anything other than…”
    “Getting me into bed?”
    He was silent.
    “And then what? Lure me into some warm cocoon of lovemaking, and when you’d done your best to make me think I was half in love with you, you’d wheedle a promise from me to stay away from the case?”
    She saw a quick flicker of something flit across his face—something akin to anger—and then it was gone. “That’s what you think of me?” His voice was even, no note of accusation, but she felt it all the same.
    Was it possible she’d been wrong about his intentions? He hadn’t planned to use their lovemaking against her?
    She shook her head, shook her doubt off. It didn’t matter. She should never have trusted him