Everything Forbidden by Jess Michaels Page B

Ethan Hamon was known as a man of passion, not compassion. For him, this experience was not emotional. Desire was not overwhelming. And she would have to follow his lead in that view or find herself lost entirely.
    She forced her tone to become as calm and detached as she could manage. “I will return Friday morning.”
    “Not too early,” he said as she opened the door to step into the foyer. “And Miranda?”
    She turned back.
    He was watching her, his gaze focused firmly on her face. “A warm bath will ease the stinging. Have your maid draw one for you when you arrive home.”
    She stared at him, cheeks flaring. Perhaps there was some compassion to the man after all. “Thank you, my lord. Until Friday.”
    Then she shut the door behind her and fled.
     
    The moment the door closed behind Miranda, Ethan went to the bar and poured himself a very tall, very strong glass of whiskey. He downed the first tumbler in two swigs and poured another before he went to the window to look out over the front grounds.
    He pursed his lips. He couldn’t deny he was looking for Miranda. And he found her, stumbling across his lawn toward the lake and the shortcut through the fields to her family home.
    Even now, when she was little more than a diminishing figure heading toward the horizon, his body tensed and tightened and swelled at the thought of her. He could still taste her on his tongue, despite the drink. The scent of her, now mixed with the musk of sex, hung heavy in the room and taunted him with overwhelming images and feelings.
    He downed the second drink and went for a third.
    She’d asked if “it” was always like this. And he’d lied and made some callous comment about sex that had hurt and shut her down. He wasn’t proud of that, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit that the answer to her question was most decidedly no.
    Ethan had been with many women over the years. Beautiful,skilled lovers who knew exactly what to do with their mouths, their hands, their breasts, their pussies. Yet nothing in his experience had prepared him for what happened in this parlor today with a virgin. A virgin for Christ’s sake.
    He’d lost all semblance of control.
    With difficulty, Ethan moved away from the window, determined not to stare like a lost puppy after Miranda’s retreating form. He slumped into a chair across the room and looked at the rumpled settee instead. It served as a reminder of the way Miranda had surrendered to him.
    Perhaps that was it. It was the combination of her total surrender and her virginity that intrigued him so. They were a novelty. He’d never deflowered anyone, in fact he’d avoided such things in the past. And he had already admitted to various friends that he was growing tired of the practiced passions of the more experienced ladies who offered him a place between their legs.
    The real passion and the uniqueness of being Miranda’s first had affected him more than he expected, but now that he understood why, he could fight it. Dear God, he certainly wasn’t about to be mastered by an innocent. In fact, on Friday he would begin the process of utterly owning her .
    Doing so would put an end to this off-kilter feeling he was experiencing now. And if, after this was over, Miranda did indeed want to become a mistress, his tutelage would be a kindness. He could teach her so much about desire. About passion. About pleasure.
    He shivered at just the thought of it. And at the thought of Miranda being someone’s mistress. He’d scoffed a little when she first proposed it, but now…
    Now he was beginning to think she could be very, very good at it.
     
    Miranda stood at the edge of the veranda stairway and looked up at the house she had lived in her entire life. For the first time, she was hesitant about entering. She wasn’t the same woman who had left just hours before.
    A few short hours and yet it seemed like everything had changed. Would everyone be able to see? Would they guess the truth the