Read Online When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathryn Smith
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doing?”
“What we both want,” she replied brazenly, and then up on her toes she went—and pressed her eager mouth to his.
Chapter 4
F or a moment, Trystan allowed himself to enjoy the sweet pressure of Vienne’s lips against his—and when her wine-flavored tongue eased inside, he met it with his own, bringing a hint of strawberry to the kiss.
She felt exactly as he remembered, perhaps even better. Soft and pliable in his arms; slender but curved in all the right places. He thought he would never have the opportunity to hold her again. His hands itched to explore her; his mouth grew more thirsty. Arousal surged, heavy and tight. His desire for her was as much emotional as it was physical—he didn’t want to let her go.
But he did just that. And when she gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes—filled with confusion more than desire or any other feeling—he knew he’d made the right choice, as difficult as it had been.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Mouth twisting, still tasting of her, Trystan pushed her away with more force than he intended. In her slightly inebriated state, Vienne stumbled but did not fall.
“What did you hope to accomplish with tonight?” he demanded somewhat bitterly. “Sweeten me up, pretend to like my ideas; feed me, pour wine down my throat, and then insure that I was good and under your thumb with a little well-timed seduction?”
The expression on her face supported his suspicions. “I do like your suggestions.”
He let loose a bark of harsh laughter. She didn’t even try to deny the rest. “You and I already had that dance, Vienne. I’m not one of your boys who will do whatever you want for the pleasure of warming your bed; and I will not allow you to railroad me into being your subordinate. We’re business associates—and I do not make a habit of screwing the people I do business with.”
She put on a seductive, placating smile. “Trystan—”
“ No! . . . Do whatever it is you need to do to accept that I am your partner and will not be manipulated or controlled by you—but do not make the mistake of thinking I’m still that boy who worshiped the ground upon which you trod. Good night .”
He strode from the room with a stiff back and clenched jaw. She didn’t follow him—Vienne would never lower herself and chase after a man—which saved him the humiliation of being caught. His fingers curled into fists as the maelstrom of emotions inside him warred for dominance. He was embarrassed and angry and disappointed and . . . still aroused. Damn her to hell.
He was pissed at her for trying to maneuver him and even more pissed at himself for falling for it. He wanted Vienne to offer herself to him because she wanted him, not in some kind of power struggle or bid for dominance.
Damn it . He wanted to be the one in charge. That didn’t make him any better than she, did it? At least he had the excuse of a broken heart. No man would refute his lowly desire for a little revenge, the satisfaction of having the choice to take Vienne or refuse her.
And he had refused her just now. Yet, there was little pleasure in it. Was he the first man to say no to her? Probably. That didn’t offer the satisfaction it should have either.
He was disappointed, though Vienne had acted exactly as he expected her to. That didn’t make any sense, but then again Trystan was beginning to think perhaps he wasn’t a good judge of what made sense and what didn’t. He had drunk more wine than he should have . . . Vienne had been so animated and seemed so engrossed in the sharing of ideas. . .
For a moment it had felt like they were actually partners. Why did she have to go and ruin it?
Enough . She had made her play and he rebuffed it. Nothing more needed to be thought or picked apart. Vienne would not do it again; she was too smart for that. She would, however, change tactics.
As would he. Instead of leaving as he had intended, he went to one of the gaming rooms. Within
“What we both want,” she replied brazenly, and then up on her toes she went—and pressed her eager mouth to his.
Chapter 4
F or a moment, Trystan allowed himself to enjoy the sweet pressure of Vienne’s lips against his—and when her wine-flavored tongue eased inside, he met it with his own, bringing a hint of strawberry to the kiss.
She felt exactly as he remembered, perhaps even better. Soft and pliable in his arms; slender but curved in all the right places. He thought he would never have the opportunity to hold her again. His hands itched to explore her; his mouth grew more thirsty. Arousal surged, heavy and tight. His desire for her was as much emotional as it was physical—he didn’t want to let her go.
But he did just that. And when she gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes—filled with confusion more than desire or any other feeling—he knew he’d made the right choice, as difficult as it had been.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Mouth twisting, still tasting of her, Trystan pushed her away with more force than he intended. In her slightly inebriated state, Vienne stumbled but did not fall.
“What did you hope to accomplish with tonight?” he demanded somewhat bitterly. “Sweeten me up, pretend to like my ideas; feed me, pour wine down my throat, and then insure that I was good and under your thumb with a little well-timed seduction?”
The expression on her face supported his suspicions. “I do like your suggestions.”
He let loose a bark of harsh laughter. She didn’t even try to deny the rest. “You and I already had that dance, Vienne. I’m not one of your boys who will do whatever you want for the pleasure of warming your bed; and I will not allow you to railroad me into being your subordinate. We’re business associates—and I do not make a habit of screwing the people I do business with.”
She put on a seductive, placating smile. “Trystan—”
“ No! . . . Do whatever it is you need to do to accept that I am your partner and will not be manipulated or controlled by you—but do not make the mistake of thinking I’m still that boy who worshiped the ground upon which you trod. Good night .”
He strode from the room with a stiff back and clenched jaw. She didn’t follow him—Vienne would never lower herself and chase after a man—which saved him the humiliation of being caught. His fingers curled into fists as the maelstrom of emotions inside him warred for dominance. He was embarrassed and angry and disappointed and . . . still aroused. Damn her to hell.
He was pissed at her for trying to maneuver him and even more pissed at himself for falling for it. He wanted Vienne to offer herself to him because she wanted him, not in some kind of power struggle or bid for dominance.
Damn it . He wanted to be the one in charge. That didn’t make him any better than she, did it? At least he had the excuse of a broken heart. No man would refute his lowly desire for a little revenge, the satisfaction of having the choice to take Vienne or refuse her.
And he had refused her just now. Yet, there was little pleasure in it. Was he the first man to say no to her? Probably. That didn’t offer the satisfaction it should have either.
He was disappointed, though Vienne had acted exactly as he expected her to. That didn’t make any sense, but then again Trystan was beginning to think perhaps he wasn’t a good judge of what made sense and what didn’t. He had drunk more wine than he should have . . . Vienne had been so animated and seemed so engrossed in the sharing of ideas. . .
For a moment it had felt like they were actually partners. Why did she have to go and ruin it?
Enough . She had made her play and he rebuffed it. Nothing more needed to be thought or picked apart. Vienne would not do it again; she was too smart for that. She would, however, change tactics.
As would he. Instead of leaving as he had intended, he went to one of the gaming rooms. Within
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