the right and leads around to the massive foyer, if I’m correct about where I am.
I glance left and right again. No one is around. I can’t even hear the string band playing in the great hall. I take a deep, shaky breath. Then I grab the handle of the door behind me. It’s taller and wider than the others, and to my surprise, it gives when I turn the knob.
Blinded by a haze of lust, I sail into the room, flaps of emerald silk flying around me, my hand already reaching between my legs.
Through my mental fog, I notice the vastness of the bedroom. My eyes slide over the flames blooming in a marble fireplace and I spot a tasseled pillow tossed haphazardly, inches from the fire. My attention settles on the bed; it’s huge, with four mahogany posts and a deep green bedspread that matches my gown almost perfectly. I dimly note a surprising lack of pillows, just before I trip on one. I glance down at my feet, surprised to find I am standing in a sea of pillows. I glance around, still panting, and notice a broken mirror hanging beside a small armoire.
I’m confused and for a second, worried, but another glance around the room reveals nothing else out of the ordinary. I assume someone has used the room for a party quickie. That turns me on even more, and I rush back to the door, locking it behind me before striding to the bed.
It’s ridiculous. I’m still blazing hot. I feel full and restless. Desperate. I know what I need. I’ve never done this outside my bedroom, but Hunter West does something strange to me, so I’m not entirely surprised—nor am I inclined to stifle my desire. I’m a grown woman, and God knows I’m the only one with a say-so in my sex life. Why not do what I want? Ten minutes, and I’ll be back out in the hall, feeling a lot more level-headed. It’s win-win.
I laugh softly as I scoot up onto the mattress, inhaling the sweet scent of leather and cologne as I lean back on the only remaining pillow. Sweaty and trembling, I part my legs and reach under my gown. My fingers have just found their mark when a shadow rises from the floor space on the other side of the bed.
Chapter 2
Elizabeth
HUNTER IS SHIRTLESS and sweat-slicked, with dark eyes and a thoughtful, soft mouth. He wipes his forehead, squinting, and speaks in a voice that sounds strangely far away. “Is that you, Libby?”
He gets to his feet, and I can’t speak. Can’t even move. When I find my voice, I sound like I’m choking. “Libby? N-no.”
God help me, he’s beautiful. I’m in awe of his wide shoulders and that chiseled chest. My heart is racing and between my legs, I clench in response to—well, it must be pheromones. I have the urge to grab his arms and pull him down beside me on the bed. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut, belatedly aware that I’ve got a hand up in my gown.
Oh God. I’m done. I was an outcast before, but once this story gets around, my old crowd will really slay me.
I lift my eyelids, finding Hunter closer; he’s leaned over the mattress, the weight of his gorgeous upper body propped on his thick arms.
His face softens when his eyes meet mine, and he nods slightly. “Yes it is.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about anymore, because my brain has turned to soup. I’m all glowing, glittering sensation as his gaze sweeps up and down me. His brows are gathered, his mouth still tight. Firelight illuminates his face, so I can see the exact moment he realizes what I’ve been doing. His lips press flat as his hands, pressed against the mattress, curl into big fists. He makes a low, approving sound and speaks in a voice that sounds like molten lava.
“That’s so fucking sexy.”
I look down at my hand, still tangled in my gown. “Is it?” I search his face.
“Oh, yeah.” He’s on the bed with me that next second, his gym-ripped body licked by the glow of flames. I gasp when he grabs my hips and turns me toward him. His eyes widen, and I expect him to let go of my fleshy hips. I’m already recoiling, so shy in this moment that I wish I could disappear. Instead he pulls me closer, locking both hands around my ass and squeezing.