His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 6

Horatia still hadn't changed into her nightclothes. Restlessness had her up well past midnight. Knowing Lucien was somewhere in the house was unsettling, and she worried about that blasted cat. Muff should have been curled up on the extra pillow in her bed, but he was conspicuously absent. There was a chance a passing footman or maid had closed the grates around the fireplace and he hadn't been able to get back down.

Unwilling to let him stay in the cold chimney all night, Horatia abandoned her room and went in search of the cat. She tried to think of all of the other places he could be, and not the one place she wished she could be at that moment. In Lucien's arms.

It had been months since he'd last spent the night, and her brother was delighted to have him and Charles there. If not for the League, Cedric would have been exceedingly lonely. She knew he loved her and Audrey, but he'd always longed for brothers. It was hard to miss the way he brightened whenever his friends came over for dinner, or how he looked forward to afternoons at his gentlemen's club, Berkley's. Perhaps it was because he could relax around them, and not have to play guardian.

After their parents died, Cedric had taken on a great amount of responsibility, not only to care for and raise her and Audrey, but matters of business and peerage as well. It was good he had such friends to ease his burdens and the pressures of family.

She slipped down the stairs to the ground floor and passed by the drawing room, where cigar smoke scented the air and muted laughter echoed against the partially open door.

At least someone was having a good evening. Irritation rippled beneath Horatia's skin. Lucien seemed to enjoy torturing her. Between his heated looks and cool smiles he was driving her mad. It was frustrating to not know how to act around him, whether to be warm or to keep her distance.

One of the men said something and Lucien's rich laugh teased her ears. Her insides shook with longing. She wanted to make him laugh like that, to be the center of his focus.

A small dark shadow flitted across the hall and dashed through the library door.

"Muff!" Horatia hissed, hoping to both summon and chastise the rebellious feline. Given the nature of cats however, she knew it was a fool's errand.

Horatia entered the library, lit a candle and started searching under couches and behind chairs. She almost missed the soft click as someone came in behind her and shut the door. The flame of the candle in her hand sputtered as she turned.

Lucien stood not five feet from her, watching her with hooded eyes. The aroma of brandy quickly reached her. The candlelight threw flickering shadows across his handsome face, highlighting a small scar near his brow.

In a few slow strides he towered over her. Horatia was suddenly very aware of his masculinity-the breadth of his shoulders, his height, and that the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. She knew herself to be tall, but next to Lucien she felt small, delicate and vulnerable. It was strange, but she liked feeling so helpless around him. Filled with longing, she barely stopped herself from reaching for him. He was too handsome, too virile. Whenever he was near he reduced her to a wild, wanton creature that would do anything for the chance to know pleasure in his arms.

"Horatia." Her name rolled off his lips like a fine dessert, sweet and decadent. "You ought to be in bed."

The wicked way he said "bed" made her lightheaded.

"I couldn't sleep."

He leaned forward, his body close to hers as he blew out the candle in her hand. The sudden darkness around them made her catch her breath. A beam of moonlight broke through, lighting their faces. The smoke curled and danced up between them. Lucien's smile offered her a world of knowledge about pleasure.

"There's a lovely little remedy for sleep that I always employ. Do you want to know what it is?" His low voice set her skin on fire.

I shouldn't answer. I know what he's going to say. "What is it?" Blast!

The faint moonlight from the tall library windows lit his face as he leaned even closer to her.

He grinned down at her like a Cheshire cat. "I find the nearest beautiful woman, slip into her bed and wrap myself around her." His warm brandy-tinged breath fanned her face. Tingles of awareness spiked through her body and she stifled a gasp.

He raised a hand, drawing one elegant finger along her cheekbone. "Your face is warm. Have I made you blush? I'd like to make other parts of you blush as well." Lucien took the candle holder from her and set it on a shelf.

Horatia's knees shook. She stepped back and her head collided with the bookshelf behind her. Lucien closed the distance between them and braced his hands on either side of her face. His lips were inches from hers.

Her legs shook against him, loose and unprotesting as he parted them with his thigh. He dragged her up the length of his leg so her toes barely touched the ground. The movement sent shockwaves of excitement through her and made her inhale sharply. Her hands fell to his shoulders, seeking to hold on to him. His lips found hers again and her palms skated up his neck into his hair, the strands whispering over her skin. She dug her fingers in and tugged on his hair. He growled deep in his throat and kissed her harder.

Saying no to him was the furthest thing from her mind. There was nothing beyond this moment-his kiss, the sliding touch of his palms, his fingers digging possessively into her flesh, cupping her bottom until a staccato rhythm throbbed deep inside her. It beat against his hard, muscular thigh, flooding her with awareness. She tried to rock against him, to create more friction. Anything to get closer to him, to satisfy her need for something she didn't fully understand.

"My God, you were made for sin," Lucien groaned as he tried to move his other hand deeper into the confines of her bodice.

She was made for sin? Was she nothing more than a body he'd like to bed? A temptation to release his needs upon? The words lit a flame under Horatia. She clawed his chest and sank her teeth into his shoulder to get free. Lucien jerked back with a low curse, letting her feet hit the floor again.

Undaunted, he said, "Careful with that temper of yours, my dear," and moved in to kiss her again.

Under other circumstances she might have melted in his arms. But he'd gone too far. Horatia brought her knee up into his groin.

Silence filled the room. For a moment Horatia wondered if it had made him a statue. At last a moan, several octaves higher than before, escaped his lips as he staggered back a couple of steps, then sank to his knees.

"Damn you, woman!"

"Serves you right, you...you horse's arse!" She covered her mouth, shocked at her own language.

Despite Lucien's pained groan, he chuckled.