Everything Forbidden by Jess Michaels Page A

Snatching up his discarded trousers, he said, “Yes. That is sex, my dear.”
    Miranda’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she watched him dress with jerky, controlled movements. He never looked at her. He hardly acknowledged her at all except to occasionally hand her an item of her clothing that had become entangled in his own. He was cold, distant.
    Her stomach sank with every silent moment that ticked by. What was wrong? Had she not pleased him? He had seemed to enjoy her touch. He’d found release with a shout much louder than any she’d heard from him in the years she spied on him. But now he didn’t seem happy in the least about his conquest.
    Perhaps conquering an inexperienced virgin hadn’t been as satisfying as he’d thought it would be.
    The heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she quickly detangled her chemise from her wrinkled gown to pull it over her head and regain some semblance of decorum. Now the voices of doubt crept in, reminding her that Ethan Hamon was no man of honor. He could easily change his mind about the bargain they had struck, leaving her with no virtue and no hope for her family. He might even tell the world about her surrender, the consequences to them both be damned.
    Struggling to her feet, she shook out her gown and stepped into the folds of worn fabric. She refused to look at him as she began to refasten her front buttons with shaking fingers.
    “Here.”
    She jumped as Ethan’s voice interrupted her work. She looked up to find him finally facing her. His shirt was half undone, his feet bare, and his hand was extended toward her, motioning her to his side.
    Heart throbbing, she moved to him. “Yes?”
    “Let me.”
    He caught the gaping sides of her gown and went to work on her buttons with the same efficiency as he had torn them open, but far less passion. The action felt sterile, distant, like she was some child he was assisting, not a lover.
    Miranda bit her lip. She wasn’t going to become upset in front of him. A man like Ethan wouldn’t want some hysterical woman sobbing in his parlor. Doing that would only prove that she was more trouble than she was worth.
    “Ethan,” she whispered, hating how her voice broke just a little.
    He hesitated before he slipped the last button into place. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers and a flicker of heat stoked deep within his eyes. Dark and dangerous, but it gave her hope. He still wanted her.
    As if he had read her mind, he cupped her chin and tilted her face, letting the rough pad of his thumb drift along her bottom lip. The passionate sensations that had just come to a sparkling, spectacular head a few moments before began again, teasing Miranda with the promise of release. She was shocked by how quickly she could want, despite her aching body.
    “What now?” she whispered, darting her tongue out and slipping it over his questing thumb briefly.
    “Damn it,” Ethan muttered as his arm came around her waist. He yanked her flush against him and then stood there, staring down at her. His face was intense and still, his eyes and expression dark and indecipherable beyond that burning fire of desire.
    “You are going home,” he finally croaked out as he let her go and backed away. He held out his palms to her like a shield. “Go home, Miranda.”
    Panic gripped her as she sucked in a breath. “But we—our agreement—”
    “Friday,” he barked, his sharp voice silencing her protests. “Your Fridays will be mine this summer. Come back in two days time and we’ll begin this bargain in earnest.”
    Miranda stared at him for a long moment. Part of her was relieved he didn’t wish to break their bargain before it even began. Still, his attitude kept her from feeling any comfort about her future.
    “Very well,” she stammered as she turned away.
    He wanted her gone and she had no leverage to argue that point with him. They had come to terms, they had sealed their arrangement, why wouldn’t he become businesslike and cold?