One Wicked Sin by Nicola Cornick Page A

transparent negligee. It felt different, though. It felt honest, as though more than her clothes had been stripped away.
    When she risked a look at his face the unashamed appreciation in his eyes stole her breath.
    “You’re beautiful,” he said. His gaze pinned hers as she looked away. “Surely you know that?”
    Actually she did not. She could not remember anyone ever telling her. She knew that Gregory had chosen her for her prettiness as well as her family connections because he had wanted a wife who was an adornment to his position. But Gregory had never admired her as a woman. He had appreciated her only in the cold way that he valued a piece of china or glass. Her lovers hadthrown her pretty compliments, it was true, but she had often thought that was just part of the game, insincere, giving her the words she wanted to hear. Ethan sounded as though he really meant it, and although the cynical side of her berated her for her credulity, she desperately wanted it to be true.
    “I…” Her heart was beating so hard and fast that the words seemed trapped in her chest. She felt self-conscious and had to smother a sudden insane urge to grab the cover from the bed and cloak herself in it. Yet at the same time she felt hot and dizzy and excited, a spiral of lust curling low in her belly.
    Arousal.
    She remembered the sensation but her memories seemed a pale and empty thing beside this burning reality.
    Ethan took her hand and she almost jumped. Of all the places to touch her when she was naked… He was gently coaxing her to sit on the edge of the bed, then to lie back, spread and exposed to his gaze. Her stomach squirmed again in helpless desire as he allowed his gaze to travel over her from the crown of her head to her feet. He eased off her shoes and let them fall, then rolled her stockings down and cast them aside.
    He came down beside her, still fully dressed, resting on one elbow. “You still look terrified.” His fingers touched her cheek in a reassuring caress then moved to brush the tangle of hair back from her brow. “I had hoped to banish your fear a little by now.”
    Lottie turned her lips against his fingers. “You have,” she whispered. “If you stop now I will probably kill you.”
    He laughed then swooped down to take her lips again in another deep kiss. He was less careful now, less controlled. She could feel his restraint slipping. Yet still he held something back even as the kiss took her to a place that was heated and sweet and intense, a place that she never wanted to leave.
    They were both gasping when they finally drew apart.
    “Take off your clothes,” Lottie whispered. “This feels very unfair.”
    Ethan rolled over to shed his coat, casting it carelessly across the room. He pulled off his neck cloth and threw aside his shirt, barely repressed impatience in each gesture. Lottie watched. She had seen more than her fair share of naked men and had mostly found the male form a disappointment, oddly shaped, flabby, or even downright ugly. Men generally looked so much better with their clothes on. Her grandmother had told her so before she wed at seventeen and Lottie had never had cause to doubt her.
    Not Ethan Ryder, though. His body was firm and lithe, whipcord strong, his shoulders wide and his chest hard and muscled. Lottie thought his thighs would probably be equally heavily muscled from so many hours in the saddle and she felt a little light-headed to think about it. Her mouth was dry and her blood felt drugged, heavy with lust.
    “And the rest,” she prompted, as he paused. The glitter in his eyes as he looked down at her was bright and hard, desire distilled. Her heart thumped.
    It took him only a moment to discard the rest of his clothes, and then he stood before her entirely nakedand magnificent with it, strong, powerful and, as Lottie could not help but note, with an enormous erection as impressive as the rest of him. Her throat felt as dry as sand now. She waited for him to return