Free The Gilded Cuff by Lauren Smith

feet for just a touch or a husky whisper. The devil could make bargains with the body of this man, and she was more than willing to sign on the dotted line to give her soul up for another of his all-consuming, soul-stealing kisses.
    It was only after a moment that she caught him watching her. His eyes shimmered with summer heat, scorching and dangerous.
    “I think we’ll save a tour for later. You look too tempting and I don’t think my great Uncle Timsworth—” he pointed to a painting over her shoulder, of a gray-haired, solemn-looking man seated in a chair, cigar in hand— “would appreciate me fucking you against the wall next to him.”
    Sophie blushed; her breath halted for a second. Why did the idea of that make her want to melt into a puddle on the floor?
    “Are you hungry?” He raised her hand to his mouth, feathered his lips over her knuckles, locked his eyes on her the way an artist might focus on a blank canvas. Visions, dreams, each step of a masterpiece placed in the artist’s mind’s eye all before he set a brush to canvas. Sophie wondered what he saw in her, what masterpiece he sought to create.
    Please let it be something dark, carnal, sinful.
    As though able to read her thoughts, Emery smiled. It wasn’t just any smile, but one that knocked her behind the knees, sent her tumbling into his arms. It was a smile that drove her to a place emptied of all else save need for him and what he promised with a simple look.
    Trouble. She was in so much trouble . Sophie tilted her head back to look up at him, the heat of his chest against hers hot enough to make her sweat despite the fact that she should have been cold in her leather miniskirt and corset top. She sucked in a breath when his head descended toward hers.

Chapter 5
    A FTER BEING TAKEN TO THE HOSPITAL AND TREATED, F RANCESCA E SPINA, THE BOYS’ NANNY, RECOUNTED WHAT SHE COULD REMEMBER OF THE CRIME. S HE STATED THERE WERE AT LEAST THREE MEN IN BLACK MASKS WHO CAME IN THROUGH THE BACK KITCHEN DOOR. D URING THE FIGHT, ONE OF THE BOYS TRIED TO DISTRACT ONE OF THE KIDNAPPERS BUT WAS HURT. B LOOD SAMPLES FROM THE SCENE WERE MATCHED TO THE YOUNG VICTIM AS WELL AS TO THE NANNY.
    — New York Times , June 10, 1990
    E mery’s lips brushed Sophie’s ear. She angled her neck toward him, offering more of her skin, hoping desperately he would continue that wicked play of his mouth.
    He gave a throaty laugh. “Are you hungry for food ? We have plenty of time to satisfy your other hungers.”
    Disappointment at his stopping his kisses warred with the rumbling in her stomach.
    “Food please,” she replied, still a little breathless.
    He laughed again, only this time the sound was louder, richer. She laughed too. It felt good.
    “Food it is. This way.”
    He took her down several more corridors. As he led her on a winding trail through the massive labyrinth that was the Lockwood house, her eyes darted from the portraits on the walls back to Emery. His muscled body shifted and moved next to her, and the close tailoring of his suit displayed the finest figure of any man she’d ever seen. She licked her lips, ready to speak, to draw him into another sensual touch or kiss, but he stopped before a door and pushed it open.
    “This is the original kitchen, built back in 1902 when the house still had over twenty servants and catered to huge parties.”
    Emery gestured to the large marble bar and even larger countertops that filled the room. Sophie could almost see into the past—the hustle and bustle of ill-tempered cooks shouting for scullery maids to bring fresh water to the stove. The steam curling from the soup and the smell of fresh bread and roasted chicken. Her mouth watered at the thought. What a grand thing it must have been to have lived in such an era. She continued her study of the kitchen, noting the wooden rack that hung above the center marble island where gleaming silver pots and pans were attached by handles and strings amid garlands of various