Undone by Lila DiPasqua

libido. He still couldn’t believe she’d managed to erode his good reasoning and had provoked him into a rare moment of recklessness.
    And he was never reckless. Not ever.
    Being alone in her company was like playing with fire. But he couldn’t draw away. Not yet. Not until he demystified this mystifying woman.
    One thing he was certain of was that she was a little fraud. He’d noted her body’s response to his touch in the library. He knew she felt the mutual carnal heat between them. There might be a compelling reason this sweet enchantress wanted to return to the convent, but neither a religious calling nor a deep devotion to a cloistered existence were it.
    However, that didn’t negate that she was still a virgin. And he wasn’t about to let himself forget it—no matter how good his every rakish instinct told him it would be between them. He wanted to believe that years of carnage and chasing ambitious dreams hadn’t stripped away all decency in him. Whatever it took, he’d resist. He didn’t claim maidenheads. And he wasn’t about to start with hers.
    The women he bedded were experienced in the carnal arts. Enjoyed sex that was recreational. Raw lust with no emotional involvement was his preference.
    He was going to draw out her secrets, shatter her mystique, and break this peculiar libidinous hold she had on him once and for all. All it would require was a bit of patience and finesse.
    How difficult could it be?
    Shifting in his chair, trying to ease the discomfort of his arousal, Simon picked up his spoon. Neither of them had touched the poached-egg soup before them.
    “Does the soup not appeal to you, Angelica?”
    “Yes… It smells delicious.” Her manner was pleasant, despite her obvious unease. She was clearly unaccustomed to being alone with a man. He admired her bravado, fully appreciating how unsettling this entire experience was for her.
    He covered her hand with his. She started at the touch. “Easy.” He was pleased she didn’t pull away from him, more than he’d ever admit, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze to reassure her. “It is but a meal. Try to relax. Pretend we are old friends.” He smiled. “I would be very pleased if you would call me Simon.”
    She took a deep breath and let it out. “Very well… Simon .”
    Reluctantly, he removed his hand. The urge to trail his palm inside her sleeve and lightly up her arm was far too strong. “Let us eat.” He tasted his soup, encouraging her to do the same.
    She tried the broth. “Your home is lovely,” she said, initiating some polite conversation, her alluring mouth capturing his attention.
    He was starved for a taste of that mouth. “This is not my home. It belongs to a friend of mine.”
    “Oh? Where is your home?”
    “The sea, mostly.” His answer was purposely vague.
    “No wife, then? Or children?” she inquired before returning her attention to her soup.
    Her response was adorably artless. He waited until finally her gaze was drawn back to him.
    “No wife and no children.” There it was. A flicker in those eyes indicated that his answer pleased her. She was treading on dangerous territory. He wanted nothing more than to charm his way under her skirts and into her drawers. Beautiful green-eyed angel, don’t play a game you can’t afford to lose, for I would surely claim more than a kiss from a curious virgin as my prize.
    “Have you always loved the sea?”
    He drank some burgundy and shrugged. “It is where my responsibilities lie.” Tamping down the rancor that subject stirred, he turned matters on her just as the roasted duck was brought in. “I notice you did not don the gown provided for you. Was it not your size?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t try it on.”
    He leaned in and poured some burgundy into her goblet. “Any particular reason for that?”
    “I didn’t believe it was suitable attire for me.”
    “Really?” Unable to stop himself, his eyes drifted quickly over her form, trying to imagine