Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 34

Rosalind tried to fight him off, but the fierce baron was made of stone for all of her struggles. It was like trying to shift a boulder. A very nice, warm, masculine boulder...

So the baron wants to play that game, does he?

Rosalind would fight fire with fire. He intended to throw her off her senses and replace reason with lust? Did he think her resolve so weak? Every woman could expect such shocking behavior from a man. But had he ever considered how he might react if faced by an equally determined woman?

She met him kiss for kiss, leaning in until her body was flush to his. She would not deny it was pleasurable, but she couldn't afford to think about that, not now. There was a battle afoot and she was going to win!

When he wedged his thigh between her legs and started bunching her skirts up around her hips, she bit his lower lip. Already he was raising the stakes. His fingers dug into the bared skin of her thighs as he lifted her right leg to lock around his hip. The taste of blood and brandy shared by their mouths was a catalyst for Rosalind's arousal.

She'd always preferred things a bit wild, but her late husband had been far too old and sweet to ever give her what she'd craved. Not like this man who pinned her to the wall. He set fire to her very blood with his hard kisses and rough hands. But it was a tool, a weapon at his disposal, and one he was not afraid to use.

Forcing a hand between their tightly pressed bodies, she clawed a path down his tailored shirt and waistcoat to cup the bulge of his arousal that jabbed her stomach. She squeezed it, expecting him to cry out. Instead there came a throaty growl as he rubbed himself against the palm of her hand like a tame jungle cat.

"God, what you do to me," he moaned before he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Something in the gruff way he'd spoken those words made her body burst into flames. She captured his mouth, kissing him back just as ruthlessly. The war continued.

Rosalind writhed against him, trying to get closer, to ease the building ache inside her. An ache she'd thought she'd never feel again for any man. She had cared for the late Lord Melbourne, but there hadn't been love. And certainly not lust such as this. If only they had met under other circumstances. But it was time to put an end to this.

"You call this a punishment?" she challenged, fighting her desire to smile. His panting and shaking body was all she needed to know he was losing control of himself. The careful, controlled Baron Lennox was about to unleash that dark side he thought he hid so well.

She suspected they were a pair cut from the same cloth. Dark, hungry desires covered by cool, demure behavior in polite society. And she wanted to see how far she could push him. If she could break him the way he was trying to break her.

"You little minx," Ashton snarled and slammed her back against the wall with such force that she momentarily couldn't breathe. Her heartbeat spiked again and she gripped the back of his neck, hauling his head down to hers for another kiss.

"Is that the best you can do?" she taunted him.

"What makes you think you've seen my best?"

Before Rosalind could react, he penetrated her lacy underpinnings with a hand and cupped her mound. She gasped in disbelief. This was an act of desperation, but one that might just undo her.

Despite the rough plundering of his tongue in her mouth, the fingers between her legs were gentle. They probed her growing wetness, spreading the slick honey of her core about. Her late husband had never touched her like this. He'd taken her body calmly, careful not to hurt her, but he had never truly pleasured her either.

"Rosalind!" He hissed her name as his body went rigid and pleasure exploded through him. His shaft jerked beneath him and he sagged back against the wall.

He looked down at his breeches. Oh no...

The little Scottish hellion stepped back. At first he thought it might be in shock or regret, but no. Instead she smiled at her work and gave a husky laugh. "Well, now, at least my skirts cover my minor disgrace. I wish you the best of luck in dealing with yours, my lord." With a taunting smile, she pulled off one of her black gloves and dropped it between them on the ground.

Disposing of the garment that had touched his member, or was it perhaps some sort of challenge? Still smirking, she smoothed her skirts and left the alcove.

Stuck alone in the alcove to fight off his irritation, Ashton could only glare at Lady Melbourne as she disappeared into the heavy crowds preparing for the opera's second act. How the hell had a woman gotten the upper hand against him? There was no way he could step outside in this condition. He'd have to wait until the opera had ended and the crowds had dispersed.

Ashton slapped an open hand against the wall behind him and breathed in deeply. Then he glanced down at the glove, and with a vengeful delight, he retrieved it off the floor, tucking it securely into his coat pocket. He would find a way to return it to her when the circumstances ruled in his favor. Once he finished this little game.

Little minx. I'll get you for this.