Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,20

only to survive—he’d vowed long, long ago, after his mother’s miserable death, to do more than just that—but rather, to thrive. Flourish.

After all, the fact remained he was free of Newgate. That, however, did not mean Tynan was in any way truly free. Not because of the lady before him. But rather for the sheer number of enemies he’d amassed. An endless sea of men and women, from ruthless peers of the realm, to cutthroat persons on the street. They hadn’t bothered him when he’d been in a position of power, because of the influence he had. But now? Now it was open season.

To all those he’d had dealings with through the years, Tynan represented either the one who’d kept them or their loved ones locked up, refusing to let them slip free of Newgate, or the warden who’d allowed them to walk after a steep bribe had been paid.

It always circled back to having power; over all…and that included this woman before him.

Tynan narrowed his gaze upon Faye.

She eyed him with a healthy—and wise—dose of world weariness. “What is it?”

Aye, she’d proven herself naïve, but she’d also demonstrated herself wise enough to distrust him. She was more clever than he’d initially credited.

“Well, it is just…” Tynan captured his chin in his hands and made a show of feigned contemplation. “You asked a good question, Faye. What do I want?” He started a slow path around her. “What do I want?” he repeated, this time in slower, more contemplative tones. He stopped just behind her, and the lady stiffened. “Hmm?” He placed his lips close to her nape, and her head fell left, opening up that delicious curve for his attention. Tynan smiled at the renewed evidence of her desire. “What do you think I want?”

She gave her head a little shake. The slight movement sent a curl tumbling over her shoulder, that lock dark and so silken looking that he caught it, needing to test the feel of it. “I-I… don’t know,” she whispered, her lilting tones tremulous.

Tynan rubbed the strand between his fingers. And it was. He drew it close, inhaling deep of the apple blossom scent that clung to the curl, momentarily captivated. He briefly closed his eyes, drawing the tress closer.

A breathy sigh slipped past her lush mouth, and then the lady tipped her head back in invitation.

He briefly gave her what she sought, claiming her lips.

The lady melted against him. Pressing herself to his chest and parting her lips and legs at the same time, she urged him with her body to give more. He cupped her right buttock and drew her closer to his swollen and heavy cock so she could feel it. So she could feel him. And then he stopped.

“Money.” He drew back, fighting through his desire for a place of control. Faye’s lashes fluttered and then flew open, revealing her slightly dazed expression. “The only thing I want from you, Miss Poplar, is money,” he went on with a callous bluntness, with a final caress of her surprisingly and pleasantly rounded derriere. After all, it would take a good deal more than desire for this—or any—woman to make him lose focus on his purpose.

“Money?” she repeated.

Did he imagine the thread of disappointment underlining her echo?

“Money, Miss Poplar,” he said coolly. That had always been not only his path to power over people, but also the source of all great security and safety. “Unless…this is really what you came here for?” he taunted. “To have your itch scratched?” She wouldn’t have been the first in the course of his career.

Faye Poplar blinked, and then, with a little toss of her head, she stepped away.

“Hardly,” she said with an impressive modicum of steadiness for one who’d been coming undone in his arms. “I needed your assistance in navigating London… This was unexpected. Furthermore,” she went on, “I should point out that you were the one who initiated this exchange.” All hints of that befuddled haze of desire lifted, replaced with the earlier scowl she’d fixed upon him. Folding her arms at her chest, she glared up at him. “Let me see if I have this correct, Mr. Wylie. You, who were locked away in a prison cell at Newgate, that impenetrable fortress, with no hint or hope of seeing anything beyond those stone walls or the end of a rope, find yourself free because of me, and now you are asking me to pay you?” At that last affronted word, her voice climbed