Free Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] by Something Wicked Page A

“By the expression on your face, you want to eat me.”
    He’d retied her almost unnoticed! And even with the mask, he’d read her wicked thoughts. Perhaps she’d been licking her lips!
    “Well?” he said, stroking her jawline. “It’s not yet one o’clock. We’ve plenty of night left.” Light as a feather, he brushed his thumb across her lips. “You’re ripe for it and you know it. You know I can please you . . .”
    Could someone take over another’s mind, using a soft, persuasive voice to shape thoughts to his will?
    Or was he merely speaking the truth of her desires?
    Though she couldn’t quite form a denial, Elf managed to shake her head. Reluctantly. Very reluctantly. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted to accept his offer when but a short while since she’d fought him.
    She’d never anticipated the power of unexpected kindness when applied to an awakened body.
    Bodies could be very wicked.
    He shrugged and stood. Then, with a disarming glint of mischief, he untied the belt of his robe and let it fall open.
    Elf looked.
    She looked up at his face, then down again, her mouth turning dry and her heart thundering.
    He let the black silk slither down his arms, then caught it in one hand.
    He reminded her of a statue, but not a stern Roman senator—a nude Greek athlete. Sleek, solid muscles were perfectly arranged around long strong bones.
    “Are you quite sure, Lisette?” She looked up to see a gentle teasing that threatened to melt her reason. “As my lover, you’d be allowed to do all the wicked things you’re imagining, and some you haven’t even thought of yet.”
    Oh yes. Oh please . . .
    But then the many powerful reasons why it would be insanity managed to make themselves heard. Though she could have wept, she shook her head again.
    He shrugged, picked up his candles, and strolled back to his room, his beautiful naked back constant temptation to change her mind. She could imagine the feel of his firm, round buttocks beneath her hands . . .
    “By the way,” he said, presumably from his bed, “if you call me again, I’ll take it as a demand that I satisfy your all-too-obvious appetite no matter whether you shake your head or not.”
    The candles were extinguished and silence fell.
    Elf lay on her back, shaken by lust and consumed with embarrassment.
    Vague hungers based on kisses and men’s clothed bodies had now taken concrete form. Her desires were no longer dreamy. They were firm, urgent, and centered on Fortitude Harleigh Ware, Earl of Walgrave, the least likely man to satisfy them if he discovered who she was.
    Well, she tried to tell herself, she’d known she was feeling this restlessness, this dissatisfaction. Mere accident had thrown her in with her brother-in-law tonight. Her feelings would surely have been the same for any other handsome man who’d rescued her from death.
    She wasn’t sure she believed it, and the temptation to take him at his word and call out again astonished her. He would strip off her clothes until she was as naked as he. Then he’d lie beside her and touch her as he’d touched her on the boat, but more so. He’d suckle her again, and stroke her.
    And she would be able to touch him, to enjoy the rough and smooth of him, the hard and soft.
    The taste.
    The smell . . .
    No!
    Elf blew out a long breath and concentrated on lying still, on listening to the clocks in the house sound one, and then the quarter, then the half.
    Then she began her escape before she did something impossibly wicked.
    First, she reached up to work her dagger free. That was when she realized that the cunning man had tied her hands back to back so her fingers couldn’t work together.
    She worked away with just her right hand, thankful that the dagger fit on the outside of the wooden stay down the front of her stomacher. At least she couldn’t stab herself in the heart. When she had it free of its sheath, she lost her grip so it tumbled onto the bed. In fumbling for