her head, her hair shimmering tinsel bright in the morning sunshine. "I took advantage of you,. Of your kindness and generosity, taking your money at cards, forcing Re m y from his sleep twic e — k eeping you up all night," she finished in a playful hushed breath.
His sudden grin matched the teasing light in his eyes. "So you actually owe me."
"Very much, milord." Her voice was sweet, respectful, her expression that of a young maiden well schooled in politesse. Until she smiled in a slow, seductive, languorous way that had nothing to do with maidenly innocence. "Tell me what- you'd like me to do," she provocatively murmured, "to repay you."
He reached behind him, and his fingers closed on the door key. The sound of the lock moving into place sent a shiver of excitement down Serena's spine.
"Why don't I show you?" he softly said.
......******************
But after rejoining her on the bed, he adjusted the pillows under his head, settled back, and mildly said, "Finish eating first if you like."
A tyro in the game of love and deeply appreciative as she'd already indicated, she thought it might seem rude to ignore him and cut herself another piece of cake. "I don't have to," she said, a degree of uncertainty in her voice, "if you'd rather do something else . . ."
"Fuck, you mean." His voice was very soft.
"Yes. I'm profoundly in your debt."
One dark brow lifted. "You're doing this out of obligation?"
"Of course not. You know better than that with amour your conspicuous speciality."
He slowly smiled. "You did seem rather more involved than mere duty would warrant."
"Odious man," she reproached, a twinkle in her gaze. "As if a woman alive could resist you."
He'd learned long ago to refrain from discussing his love life. "Are you going to eat?" he asked instead.
"I don't have to."
"So accommodating," he lazily drawled. "But if you're hungry, eat. I can make love to you anytime."
"Can you really?" A faint pettish note shaded her voice.
His mouth quirked faintly. "What do you want me to say?"
She made a small m oue; his certainty based on the legions of women in his life could not be doubted. "Say something charming, Rochefort," she wryly said, deciding she didn't care to hear the truth. "Something sweet and romantical from your repertoire."
"I only meant we're unconstrained by time. And I don't have a repertoire . . . although," he added with a lush smile, "if I had one I'd liken you to Ovid's Corinn a — y our beauty's without flaw." Reaching up, he delicately touched her cheek. "Is that better?"
She ruefully wished she could be as dégagée as he. "Forgive my pettiness."
Beau shrugged. "There's nothing to forgive, lollipop."
"I don't know why I should take exception to your reputation with women anyway," Serena mused, gazing at him sprawled in nonchalant splendor beside her. "I hardly know you."
"Have I been remiss?" he gently inquired.
"Well, besides that," she replied. "And thank you very much, dear Glory, for your exceptional talent. But I mean really know you."
He never liked the sound of that phrase, particularly from women in bed. It always presaged their wish to insinuate themselves into his life and by definition change his comfortable existence. Restive at the familiar consequences of a woman in pursuit, he rolled up into a seated position, the flux of r ippling muscle impressive. "Why don't I feed you?" he suggested.
"Why?" Perplexed, she stared at him.
"Because I want to." Beyond the need to derail her train of thought, he couldn't dismiss the tempting allure of her sumptuous body, nude, available, only inches away. And with her hot-blooded libido, he didn't doubt his ability to distract her.
"And you always do what you want."
"Almost always." His dark eyes were direct.
"Then maybe I'm not hungry right now," she retorted, taking issue with his careless authority, her servitude at the Tothams' too recent.
"Why don't we see whether you are or not?"
He spoke so softly she barely heard the
His sudden grin matched the teasing light in his eyes. "So you actually owe me."
"Very much, milord." Her voice was sweet, respectful, her expression that of a young maiden well schooled in politesse. Until she smiled in a slow, seductive, languorous way that had nothing to do with maidenly innocence. "Tell me what- you'd like me to do," she provocatively murmured, "to repay you."
He reached behind him, and his fingers closed on the door key. The sound of the lock moving into place sent a shiver of excitement down Serena's spine.
"Why don't I show you?" he softly said.
......******************
But after rejoining her on the bed, he adjusted the pillows under his head, settled back, and mildly said, "Finish eating first if you like."
A tyro in the game of love and deeply appreciative as she'd already indicated, she thought it might seem rude to ignore him and cut herself another piece of cake. "I don't have to," she said, a degree of uncertainty in her voice, "if you'd rather do something else . . ."
"Fuck, you mean." His voice was very soft.
"Yes. I'm profoundly in your debt."
One dark brow lifted. "You're doing this out of obligation?"
"Of course not. You know better than that with amour your conspicuous speciality."
He slowly smiled. "You did seem rather more involved than mere duty would warrant."
"Odious man," she reproached, a twinkle in her gaze. "As if a woman alive could resist you."
He'd learned long ago to refrain from discussing his love life. "Are you going to eat?" he asked instead.
"I don't have to."
"So accommodating," he lazily drawled. "But if you're hungry, eat. I can make love to you anytime."
"Can you really?" A faint pettish note shaded her voice.
His mouth quirked faintly. "What do you want me to say?"
She made a small m oue; his certainty based on the legions of women in his life could not be doubted. "Say something charming, Rochefort," she wryly said, deciding she didn't care to hear the truth. "Something sweet and romantical from your repertoire."
"I only meant we're unconstrained by time. And I don't have a repertoire . . . although," he added with a lush smile, "if I had one I'd liken you to Ovid's Corinn a — y our beauty's without flaw." Reaching up, he delicately touched her cheek. "Is that better?"
She ruefully wished she could be as dégagée as he. "Forgive my pettiness."
Beau shrugged. "There's nothing to forgive, lollipop."
"I don't know why I should take exception to your reputation with women anyway," Serena mused, gazing at him sprawled in nonchalant splendor beside her. "I hardly know you."
"Have I been remiss?" he gently inquired.
"Well, besides that," she replied. "And thank you very much, dear Glory, for your exceptional talent. But I mean really know you."
He never liked the sound of that phrase, particularly from women in bed. It always presaged their wish to insinuate themselves into his life and by definition change his comfortable existence. Restive at the familiar consequences of a woman in pursuit, he rolled up into a seated position, the flux of r ippling muscle impressive. "Why don't I feed you?" he suggested.
"Why?" Perplexed, she stared at him.
"Because I want to." Beyond the need to derail her train of thought, he couldn't dismiss the tempting allure of her sumptuous body, nude, available, only inches away. And with her hot-blooded libido, he didn't doubt his ability to distract her.
"And you always do what you want."
"Almost always." His dark eyes were direct.
"Then maybe I'm not hungry right now," she retorted, taking issue with his careless authority, her servitude at the Tothams' too recent.
"Why don't we see whether you are or not?"
He spoke so softly she barely heard the
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