the first moment in his arms.
“You are incorrigible.” The chastising tone she had planned manifested as a husky whisper instead.
His head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in on her face. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m a cad?”
Serena was charting unfamiliar territory, flirting with a man, playing games that involved both mind and body. She bit her lip, uncertain if the situation called for honesty.
“Would you admit it if I said yes?” she asked uncertainly.
Again, his palms climbed higher, like twin fires scorching their way up the sides of her thighs to cradle her hips. With a single movement, he unplucked one tie securing her stockings.
“I couldn’t possibly admit to being a cad. A little difficult, perhaps, and very stubborn. But I have never brought a . . . new female acquaintance to my home. I don’t make a habit of seducing strangers.”
Lucien could be lying. But as another of the ties holding her stockings gave way beneath his knowing hands, she refused to believe his words were anything but the truth for the sake of her sanity.
“Why, then, did you make an exception for me?” She swallowed hard as his fingers drifted across her leg, closer to the ache that was becoming impossible to ignore.
A roguish smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Now that question is an easy one to answer,” he replied, slowly rolling one stocking down her thigh. When it came free, he held it up before her gaze then let it drift to the floor. “I only intended to overindulge in strong drink and music tonight,” he confided, his speech a bit slurred again. “But when I heard your screams, saw the terror on your face . . . all I could think of was protecting you. You should not have been alone, prey to criminals like that.”
His hands ceased exploring her thighs. Serena’s breath quickened as Lucien leaned closer, his mouth nearly brushing hers.
“You shouldn’t be alone at all. Ever. I know what being alone is like.” His usually smooth voice turned raspy. “It’s damned awful.”
He kissed her, his hand winding around to her nape, caressing the sensitive curve before his palm smoothed down her back to the first hook of her dress. Between his dexterous fingers, it came undone, as did several others below.
He pushed the sleeve of her gown down, baring the curve of her shoulder. His fingertips whispered down the joining of her neck and shoulder, and a flurry of tingles tumbled over her flesh. “My God, you have beautiful skin.”
His voice held something akin to worship. Serena melted into his embrace, his words making her certain, for once, that she was indeed desirable. “Th-thank you.”
“You mustn’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it. I was merely observing the fact your skin is soft and perfect, so fair, but with a hint of honey that tells me it will taste delicious.”
As if to make his point, he planted kisses across her collarbone and drifted across to the top swells of her breasts. He moaned, a deep guttural sound, as his tongue laved her skin.
Serena gasped, thinking his kisses were more intoxicating than the wine she had consumed. Throwing her arms about his neck, she pressed her lips to his, knowing the move was a bold one—and no longer caring. She felt so feminine, so desired, surrounded by Lucien’s broad chest and steely arms.
He responded to her kiss with frenzy, his fingers working the remaining fastenings at the back of her gown. Within seconds, he opened them all and wasted no time in freeing her arms from the sleeves. With impatient hands, he pushed her silk bodice around her waist and fixed his gaze below her neck.
Serena followed his stare, and discovered the swells of her breasts, pushed up by the boning of her stays, barely within the confines of her chemise. Did he find such a display vulgar? She wiggled self-consciously, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice was hoarse as he grasped her wrists and drew her stiff arms from
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