The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,73

as she slowly drew the black tunic up her body, revealing a flash of the tempting skin of her belly, but he only caught a teasing glimpse of the lower curves of her bare breasts before she stopped, hiding herself from his avid gaze.

“Let it drop, Sophia. Let me see you.” Tristan hardly recognized his own voice it was so raw and hoarse.

She did as she was bid, but she wouldn’t have been Sophia if she hadn’t shown just a hint of teasing defiance. Slowly, so slowly Tristan was certain his knees would give way before she was finished, she raised the tunic, revealing inch after inch of smooth, olive-tinted skin.

A small smile curved her lips as she watched his gaze follow her progress, swallowing as each bare inch of her was revealed. Her trim waist, the delectable curves of her breasts, and higher still, her…

Tristan drew in a sharp breath.

The plump, dark pink buds of her nipples, swollen from the caress of his fingers and lips. Tristan’s tongue touched his bottom lip as a powerful tremor of desire shook him. God, he wanted to taste her there, without the barrier of her tunic between them.

He squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for control.

That was something that couldn’t happen. Not tonight, not after what Sophia had been through, and not when the promises he’d made to his mother about his future still hung over his head.

A future that didn’t include Sophia Monmouth. It wasn’t a future Tristan wanted.

He wasn’t a man who broke promises, but with each passing day Oxfordshire, his mother, and Lady Esther felt further away from him than they ever had before.

But with every breath he took, every stroke of his fingers over Sophia’s warm skin, she grew more real to him. Not a shadow, and not a ghost, but a living, breathing woman, one he desired more than any woman he’d ever known. But a gentleman of honor didn’t take a lady to his bed when he had nothing but his desire to offer her. He’d never make love to Sophia only to abandon her.

“Tristan?” Sophia’s uncertain voice pierced his daze. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her tunic once again shielding her nakedness. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I—forgive me.” He tore himself away from her with an effort, then reached behind her, plucked up a blanket from the bed, and wrapped it tenderly around her shoulders. “I want you so much, Sophia, but you’re injured, and I didn’t think you…I didn’t think we’d…”

She pressed her fingers to his mouth to hush him, a playful smile quirking her lips. “A gentleman, Lord Gray, turns a lady away from his bed before she takes her tunic off. But when I left home this evening, I didn’t intend to spend the night in your bed. Neither of us expected this to happen, and really, perhaps it’s just as well if it doesn’t.”

Tristan tipped her chin up so he could see her eyes and murmured, “It’s a few hours until morning. Stay with me here, Sophia.”

It wasn’t safe for her to venture out in the dark. Sophia’s attacker could be watching Tristan’s townhouse, waiting for her to emerge so he could finish what he’d started tonight. That alone was enough reason for Tristan to keep her with him, but it wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to stay.

He just wanted her.

She considered him for a long moment, her eyes unreadable, but then she smiled and reached out to brush a finger over his upper lip, tracing the tiny white scar near the corner of his mouth. “If I stay, will you tell me how you got this scar?”

He caught her hand in his and pressed a sweet kiss to her fingertip. “No.”

* * * *

Every lady is the heroine of her own story, Sophia.

Sophia gazed out into the darkness, one elbow resting on the windowsill. Such a lovely sentiment, and perhaps there was even some truth to it, but what Cecilia hadn’t said was every lady, heroine or not, wasn’t destined for a happy ending. Sophia’s own story, well…it might be a drama or an adventure, a comedy or a fairy tale, but it hadn’t ever been a romance.

That hadn’t changed tonight, for all that her lips were still swollen from Tristan’s kisses, and her skin still tender from his caresses.

She glanced over at his sleeping form. He’d dropped off soon after he’d gathered her against his chest and urged her head onto his shoulder.