Darius: Lord of Pleasures by Grace Burrowes Page A

month.”
    “And if pleasure and duty can coincide?” She knew she’d taken the bait, as he’d intended, but the question was exactly what had been bothering her. Where had her resolve not to socialize with him gone, and why had it seemed so important?
    “If duty and pleasure are to coincide, then you have to trust me at least a little to make this a seduction, a pleasure for us both.”
    “Which would you prefer?”
    His eyebrows rose, and that caught her attention, suggesting he wasn’t used to being asked his preferences. She stored that realization away for later, and lengthy, consideration.
    “My first reaction is to say it makes no difference to me,” he said. “I am being paid good coin to achieve a specific end, but I’d rather do that in the manner least upsetting to you. If I had to be honest though…”
    “Yes?”
    The look in his eyes changed, became slumberous in that instant before he lowered dark lashes and veiled his soul from her scrutiny.
    “You are lovely, Vivian, and deserving of pleasure.”
    He wasn’t telling her everything. A man who romped with society women as he did was capable of discretion, of keeping his own counsel. Silence crept up between them and expanded as Vivian considered him. He took another sip of her drink then raised his gaze to hers.
    “I propose an experiment,” he said, putting her book on the night table. “To help you make up your mind.”
    The look in his eyes was naughty and entrancing. “What kind of experiment?”
    “A good-night kiss. I won’t touch you with anything other than my mouth, and you decide whether you like it or not.”
    She scooted back against her pillows. “Kissing is very personal.”
    “Just my mouth, Vivian. You simply turn your head and wish me good night if you don’t like it. Kissing is not pouncing, not by any stretch. I kiss Waggles.”
    Surely she could keep up with the standard set by a fat, lazy tomcat?
    “Here’s my dilemma.” She folded the edge of the counterpane into a precise one inch hem. “I don’t want you to laugh.”
    “To laugh?” She could tell he was laughing already. “I just confessed to kissing a cat, and you think I’ll laugh at you? I thought we weren’t going to take any of this business too seriously.”
    “ You weren’t,” she corrected him. “You know what you’re about.”
    “Vivian, all I’m proposing is a kiss,” he began, but she stopped him with an upraised hand, needing to get this part of the conversation behind them.
    “William isn’t a… demanding husband.”
    “I see.” The smile spreading across his face was at once beatific and diabolical.
    “What do you think you see, Mr. Lindsey?”
    “I’m sitting on your bed after dark sharing a drink with you. Don’t you think you could call me Darius?”
    “I don’t want to.”
    “You’re not torn up with conflicted loyalty,” he accused, pleased as punch. “You’re afraid of yourself, afraid you’ll enjoy yourself just as old William so generously intended you to.”
    “Afraid…” She narrowed her eyes at his hubris. “You’re likely afraid I won’t, and then where will your swaggering, pawing image of yourself be?”
    “Good shot, Vivian.” He nodded, still grinning. “But best pucker up, as I’m still here.”
    In contrast to the great good humor of his words, his kiss was serious. He just leaned in and laid his lips over hers, giving her a moment to startle and breathe and then settle in. When she’d managed all that, he moved his mouth softly over hers, pulling her lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently, then turning his head an inch and tracing his tongue along her lips.
    She startled again and thought she heard him chuckle, so she retaliated by using her tongue the way he’d used his to… taste his lips. That earned her his sigh into her mouth, fruity and sweet from their nightcap. And then she felt herself being pressed back against the pillows, until she was lying on her back and Darius