Read Online What a Lady Craves by Ashlyn Macnamara - Free Book Online

forgotten corner occasionally frequented by servants was too far from the inhabited spaces to bother with candles. The windows up here were small, and the sun was not high enough to allow more than the faintest radiance. He stood so close to her, his body blotted out daylight.
    “Stand aside.” Damn that lock of hair. How it must make her look youthful and wayward; it must rob her of any kind of authority.
    “Not yet.”
    She stuck out her lower lip and blew upward. The lock swayed tauntingly before settling back in the middle of her nose. “I shall scream.”
    He ignored this in favor of reaching for the tress. He took it between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing, concentrating on what he was doing as if it were of the utmost importance that he learn the exact texture of her hair. Dumbfounded, she allowed him.
    Somehow, he inched closer until his breath blew across her face, warm and sweet. “Do you remember this?”
    “Remember what?” She had to force the words through her lips. Drawing in air had suddenly become a difficult prospect.
    “This. How it was between us.”
    “No.” A blatant lie. That particular hint of gravel in his voice pulled her straight into the past.
    “I don’t believe you. I recall that expression.”
    “What expression?” She had to work to get that much out, and blast it, the words emerged on a breathy note.
    “Your eyes dark, cheeks pink, lips parted. Like you’re ready for a kiss.” Somehow he edged even nearer. The wall was solid at her back, possibly the only reason she was still upright. “Like you expect one. Demand it, even.”
    Hang it all. She shouldn’t stand for this. From where did he derive this power over her, a power that overwhelmed will and rational thought? She must stand firm in the face of this onslaught.
    She lowered her lids, as if that thin layer of skin might suffice to ward him off. “It was never like this.”
    Not even a lie, that. A connection had existed between them before, certainly, strong enough for her to believe herself in love. Strong enough that she’d accepted his proposal. Strong enough that, once he’d thrown her over, she never found its like with another man. Now that he’d come back into her life, the pull between them had increased many times over. No, it wasn’t the same.
    Now it was far, far worse.
    “No, you’re right.” A mere whisper, those words, low and seductive, felt more than heard. They struck her in the gut; they immobilized her.
    They left her wholly vulnerable to what came next. He tucked the tendril of hair behind her ear and slipped his hand to her nape. His lips followed and pressed against hers, warm, supple. Utterly demanding.
    And with his kiss, she remembered. She remembered other stolen kisses taken in deserted corridors like this one or deep in gardens whenever she could escape her mother’s watchful eye. The way he’d slowly and patiently taught her how to respond. She remembered both the lessons and her enthusiasm for the learning. She remembered them, and they paled in comparison, mere child’s play next to what he was doing to her now.
    For he commanded her, made her go limp with the wall at her back her only support, made her clutch at his lapels and share his breath. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she allowed him to savor. Lord, yes, she remembered this, too—his taste, his scent, his presence.Three elements combined to a formula more potent than she recalled. He was the same man, yet different, stronger, more intriguing.
    Infinitely more dangerous.
    And if she didn’t stop him now, he’d have her panting up against this wall in no time, while she let him teach her all the mysteries of what passed between men and women. She could not allow that to happen. Was she really so weak?
    Summoning her will, she uncurled her fingers from the wool of his topcoat, flattened her palm against him, and shoved. She drew the back of her hand across her lips, as if that could stop them from