Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,119

her blue gaze reminded him of a late-September sky.

“We do,” she agreed.

An unusual rush of exhilaration shot through him, heightened by her watching him earnestly when he climbed onto the bed and settled between her thighs. Her expression was rapt even before he did anything. It made him want to please her more.

He eagerly kissed a trail across each breast, pausing briefly to lave one nipple then the next — until he heard her moan — before continuing on his way down to her sweet core. He licked a path down the flat of her stomach, breathing in the scent of her skin — not her usual perfume but fresh Pears’ soap — until he reached her apex.

Pausing, he blew gently onto her curls, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders. He’d accused her of teasing him the night before. But he could take teasing to a level that would have her practically sobbing with need.

Parting her soft petals, he blew on her again, rewarded with her sharp intake of breath. She lifted her hips toward him, as though offering him a rare jewel.

In a flash he recalled what he’d planned when he’d first found out she was stealing from the ton — a little sweet coercion at exactly the right time.

“Promise me,” he said, his mouth very close to her nubbin, which he knew was aching for his touch, just as his own cock was straining under him against the sheet.

“Anything,” she said foolishly, and he smiled to himself.

With the lightest possible touch, he put his tongue to the very tip of her sex.

She bucked, her fingers grasping him harder, but he drew back an inch, only to blow upon her once more.

“Yes,” she hissed.

“Promise me you won’t steal another thing.”

Her entire body went rigid beneath him, and then she released her hold. She lay with one arm across her face and one hand fisting the sheet, breathing heavily from pent-up desire.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” she said, her voice having lost its breathy, relaxed tone.

“I do,” he said. “I’m asking you to show an ounce of self-preservation, for my sake. I don’t want to think of you losing your pretty head.” The way he was losing his erection while they were having this somber chat.

Suddenly, she sat up and scooted away from him and from his touch, grasping the discarded counterpane and pulling it over her body.

He reached for her.

“Don’t,” she said sullenly. “Hand me my dressing gown.”

When he simply stared at her, she added, “Please.”

“Do you intend to continue your madness?” he asked, even as he climbed off the bed, stalking across the room to her gown. Picking it up, he threw it at her with mounting fury. Why wouldn’t she see reason?

Also, he was miffed she would turn down a good docking. He had thought for sure she would give in, especially when she so clearly wanted him.

“You are not my husband,” she seethed, wrenching the robe around her and shoving her arms in her sleeves with such force, he thought she might rip them. Jumping off the bed as if it were a distasteful place, she marched toward him. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

Jasper gritted his teeth, wishing he could, in fact, tell her exactly what to do. When she tried to pass him, he grabbed her arm. They locked gazes, and he could see she, too, was spitting angry.

“If I were your husband, would you obey me?” He hadn’t meant to ask such a question, so he quickly amended it. “When you have a husband, you shall have to obey him.”

“That is no concern of yours, Lord Marshfield. Let me go.”

He wanted to make it his concern, and that frightened him. Julia Sudbury was his house guest, already his friend, the woman he wanted more than any other. Moreover, what he felt for her was blossoming daily into the deepest emotion he had ever imagined. But she was a jewel thief, and she was trouble.

Releasing her arm, he turned away and let her leave.

At his door, she hesitated.

“If I were to have a husband, yes, of course, I would obey him, and thus, I hope I never shall have one.”

Sinking onto his bed, Jasper felt defeated. “You would give up the pleasures of a husband and babies so you can take sparklers and...,” trailing off, he shook his head. “You don’t even seem to care for jewelry. If you stole it for the passion of loving gemstones, that at least