Free A Perfect Mistress by Barbara Mack

thighs together and making a sound deep in her throat at how good it felt.  His hips bucked, and she gently squeezed  him . He reached out and grasped her shoulders tightly as he began to shudder, and a guttural shout of satisfaction rang through the room.  Sophie slowly released him, but couldn't resist pressing her lips against his stomach just once more as he fell away from her.
    Sophie gave a half-laugh, half-sob, and leaned her head against his thigh.  She had done it. And what's more, she'd liked it.
    It was only when he heard her sob that Jackson came back to himself , and a sick disgust made him feel like throwing up.  God, was he so pathetic that he would let her do this with nothing but fear fueling her actions?  How far he had fallen. He pulled away from her with a growl, fastening up his trousers.  Panting, he crossed the room and leaned shakily against a chair, wondering at the pain and betrayal he felt.  He had thought himself beyond those emotions after everything that had happened to him.  He smiled bitterly.  He had been fooling himself.  His emotions weren’t dead.  It was easy to manipulate him after all; this girl had done it with nothing more than a shy smile and a pretty, guileless face.
    “Pack your things,” he said coldly when he could speak again.  “I’ll come for you early.”
    He threw open the door of the room and left her there on the floor.  He stood outside for a moment in indecision, hearing the soft sounds she made as she cried, then moved resolutely away.  He wouldn't go to his room, he decided. If he stayed close, he would have her, and despite her words and actions she did not really want him. Who could blame her? he thought bitterly.  He was a monster, and children hid their faces when he came too close.  A monster, and monsters were by their very nature solitary creatures.  As he was meant to be.
    Jackson strode through the inn, growling at a passing servant who dared to ask if he needed anything, frightening the poor man half to death.  After the man had slunk away, he let out a huff of air and raked a hand through his dark, thick hair as he paced out to stables.  There had been no need to scare the man, and he felt a moment’s guilt. Heaven knows, it had probably taken all of his courage to approach him, as terrifying as his appearance was; inevitably, his scar and eye patch caused the superstitious to cross themselves in his presence and the squeamish to avoid him. 
    He found himself a neat little corner formed by bales of hay and wrapped himself in a blanket that smelled strongly of horse.  He grimaced.  It was none too clean here, but at least he was out of the wind.
    He twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot.  Jackson cursed.  It was no use lying to himself ; it wasn’t his surroundings making him feel this way, it was the desire that still burned in his loins.  He wanted to go back to the inn.  He wanted to go to her room and have her again and again .  He wanted her, still, knowing that she was repulsed by him .  He knew that he could go and open her door and he could have her, and that tempted him beyond belief .
    Sophie.  Sophie, with her blond curls and her wide blue eyes and her beautiful body.  He rolled over, knowing that his sleep was going to be filled with her image.  Resolutely, Jackson closed his eyes.  He would not give in to the urges of his body.  He could deal with this.  He would just find some willing prostitute before he started for home, one who would close her eyes for the right amount of money.  One who wouldn’t lie with her eyes and make him believe that she wanted him. 
    That was the only type of dalliance left to him.  A cash transaction.
    He heard her skirts swishing long before he saw her. He heard her coming closer and closer, and he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
    “Jackson,” she said quietly.  “I know you're awake.  Come back to the inn.”
    “ How did you find me? Go