One Wicked Night by Shelley Bradley Page A

her body. “Never hide. You are far too beautiful for that.”
    He lifted her to her feet. Bending before her, he grasped the hem of her dress and lifted it above her, his hands making tingling contact at her hips, her waist, then a lingering touch on her breasts. He tossed the dress on the floor.
    One by one, Lucien tugged on the waist-ties of her petticoats. She trembled as the garments caressed her legs on their way down, before puddling about her feet.
    Lucien held out his hand. Serena watched him, his face tense and needy. He clenched his jaw tightly, as if willing self-control. Those green eyes of his, and every emotion within them, were open to her and melted the last of her resistance. They conveyed the hunger of a man too long without sustenance, both physical and emotional.
    As she returned his stare, his breathing turned ragged. She swallowed when he reached for her hand, enveloping her palm within his warm, commanding one and urged her to step from the circle of her petticoats.
    Silently, he turned her away, and set his fingers to the lacings of her corset. Within seconds, he tossed the stiff-boned garment from her body.
    His hands smoothed the wrinkled linen of her chemise, stroking the curve of her waist. The heat of his palms penetrated the thin material, and the pulsating ache thrumming between her thighs throbbed faster, demanding his attention.
    As his hand rose to her shoulder, their gazes locked. His hot fingers on her skin flooded her insides with a rush of warmth and anticipation. Using one forefinger, he slid the sleeve of her chemise down to her elbow. Still holding her gaze captive, he did the same with the other.
    Serena felt her undergarment cling to the tops of her breasts in a valiant effort to cover them. Lucien hooked his thumb on the tautly-stretched fabric. The chemise fell to her waist, baring her breasts, tight nipples and all, to his rapt gaze.
    He swallowed hard as he reached out to caress her. When he took her breast gently in hand, his thumb brushing its beaded center, she closed her eyes for a brief moment and reveled in the cascade of warm pleasure.
    Lucien covered her mouth in a hot, urgent kiss. Serena found her arms still pinned to her sides by the sleeves of her chemise. Denied the luxury of clasping her hands around his powerful shoulders and bringing him closer, she returned the kiss with her mouth, using it to communicate the depth of her need.
    He pushed her chemise over her hips, down to the floor. Naked, she stood before him, he still fully clothed. She watched his gaze sweep across her breasts, over her abdomen. His eyes stopped at the golden triangle of hair covering her femininity. She shivered. The appreciation in his eyes dissipated her misgiving, replacing it with anticipation that burned like a flame.
    She stepped forward, against him. His arms tightened around her, bringing her against the hard crush of his body. At the abrasion of his clothing against her flushed, tingling skin, she shifted restlessly in his arms, seeking some form of relief from the ache he had created.
    “Soon, sweetheart,” he promised, then captured her mouth in a blistering kiss. When she responded in kind, his palm cupped the center of her desire, fingers probing within the moist folds.
    She felt hot and boneless, like a candle that had melted into a puddle of burning wax. A tiny moan escaped her mouth, and she clutched him for support.
    “Take my cape off, sweetheart,” he whispered, coaxing her legs further apart.
    With shaking fingers, she unhooked the garment and watched it ripple to his feet, even as his fingers probed her femininity more intimately, testing the swollen bud of her desire. While she gasped at the kaleidoscope of sensation, he tore his cravat away and freed the buttons of his waistcoat with his other hand. With a soft curse of impatience, he turned the attention of both hands to his clothing to strip off his shoes and shirt.
    He stood clad only in trousers, the firelight