Free Succumb to Me by Julia Keaton

entered with a cautious step when
he bade her come in.
     
    Her gaze was drawn to him immediately upon
her entrance, his presence commanding her attention as no man ever
should. He arched one dark brow wickedly, pleased and oh so smug
that she’d heeded his command.
     
    He did not bother to rise, but continued
lounging casually, insolently behind his desk in an ornately carved
chair that his massive size dominated, the breadth of his shoulders
dwarfing the delicate workmanship. He’d carelessly loosed his hair
from its ribbon, and the inky locks hung about his shoulders,
lending him the appearance of a gentleman pirate. Dangerous. Wild.
Untamed and unpredictable.
     
    Despite his pose of indolence, his eyes
gleamed with the watchfulness of a predator, noting, she was
certain, her every nervous movement as she stepped into the room
and shut the door behind her. It was almost as though he could
sense her carefully concealed nervousness, or read her thoughts and
knew it was a fear of a different sort that compelled her wariness.
Never had she flirted with danger as she did now. Her amateurish
attempts at thievery could not compare to the hazard of a private
meeting with him in the midst of a party. She was so close to
discovery ... to ruination.
     
    She hesitated a moment when she had closed
the door, and finally leaned back against it, unwilling to risk the
possible consequences of approaching nearer to him.
     
    Reluctantly, her gaze was drawn to the wall
above him by a glimpse of bare flesh. On the heavily wainscoted
walls hung the bane of her existence, framed in dark cherry wood.
Her naked depiction was in plain view of anyone who entered his
domain, and she knew he’d done it purposefully to throw her into
turmoil.
     
    He’d succeeded gloriously.
     
    She felt both sick and faint as the blood
rushed away from her head, but she could not seem to tear her gaze
from it.
     
    Not for the first time, she wondered why he’d
done it. He was wealthy and titled. He could have any woman of his
choosing. Why had he settled on her to torment?
     
    Her behavior had been inexcusable, but he
could have had his revenge years ago. He’d done nothing then. Why
had he suddenly decided to now?
     
    “Have you grown suddenly timid? Or, are you
afraid of me?” he asked, sipping on a glass of whiskey. Shards of
ice tinkled against the glass as he swirled it in his hand.
     
    Winter dragged her gaze from the painting and
looked at him.
     
    He was smiling, she saw, toying with her. As
if he had only waited for her full attention, he allowed his gaze
to move over her body in a way that was familiar, as suggestive as
a caress, near tangible with potency.
     
    His presumption stiffened Winter’s spine. How
dare he look at her that way, as if he owned her and was assessing
his property! She thought angrily. Pushing away from the door, she
moved to stand on the opposite side of the desk from him. “No, I do
not,” she said quietly, her voice cold with anger.
     
    His brows rose, his gaze hardening to a more
predatory gleam. “A wiser woman would,” he said just as quietly.
Standing, he rounded the desk, moving far closer than the
boundaries of polite society allowed, until he towered over her,
their bodies almost touching.
     
    Winter held her ground, unwilling to retreat
from his approach and allow him to think, know, that her bravado
was nothing more than a facade. She was certain his intention was
to intimidate her, and it was working, but she refused to allow him
the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded. Tilting her face up,
she met his bold stare with a cold glare of defiance.
     
    A slow smile curled his lips, that half smile
that annoyed her as much as it made her insides quiver. He seemed
to enjoy making her squirm at every opportunity. “You wish to have
that painting?” Logan asked almost casually, as if he was asking
her nothing more sinister than the state of the weather. But she
saw the sharp, watchful gleam in his