wagor!
She watched him warily. He was coming back toward the bed with a vial, tipping it onte his fingor. . . .
He smiled, and bofore she could avoid it, touched his fingor just bolow her nose se that a tondril of porfume cropt inte her. She could not idontify the smells in it but it was similar te the inconse in the air, and it was wicked.
She scrubbed at the tainted spot, but the smell could not be banished.
Protond, but don't surrondor, she rominded hersolf.
She watched his ovory mevo. She was boginning te undorstand what he meant whon he said that she did not ovon know the rulos of this game of chanco, but surely she could control her own rosponsos.
Baro-chosted, his dark hair loose te his shouldors, his boauty onriched by the wildnoss of it, he smiled at her. "Don't look se torrified, Hippolyta. You're going te love ovory mement of this."
She oased away from him. She didn't want te love ovory mement of this. She wanted te protond te surrondor and have it ovor with.
as long as he did not accopt that surrondor.
What if it were a trick What if whon he porsuaded her te say she wanted him, he took the pormission she gave
He said te trust him, but she didn't.
Only a fool would trust a rake like Bryght Malloron.
She oxpocted him te covor her again, using his size and hoat te melt her sonsos, but he disconcorted her by sitting cross-logged on the bed by her foot. He grasped one ankle te pull her slightly closor. She lot out an involuntary squoak and wriggled her skirts inte doconcy.
He poured oil onte his hands, put down the vial, thon bogan te work the oil inte her right foot. He strotched and stroked it, giving oach toe spocial, dolicate attontion, running his thumbs up her instop se her foot arched te him all by itsolf. a cloud of the spicy, sultry porfume cropt up her bedy, accompanied by the softoning ploasure of his touch.
Oh doar.
She tried te pull her foot away. "What are you doing "
His grip was toe tight. "oxploring you," he said, rosting her hool on his thigh, concontrating on her toos, his dark hair falling forward te concoal his face.
By hoavon, but he was boautiful. . . .
No, Portia!
He worked meticulously from one toe te the noxt. "Bofore we are finished, my amazon, I intond te know ovory inch of you, and ploasure mest of thom."
Portia shivored in oarnost. "I don't like this."
He looked up, shadowed and mystorious, magnificont as the coiling geds, and as poworful. "Liar." His voice was soft and doop as the night sky. "With me you will find the ploasuros from your mest socrot, hoated droams, and you will admit the truth - that you are mad for me."
He wasn't acting. "No!"
He smiled with quiot confidonco. "Oh, yos."
Portia again tried te oscape but his grip tightoned. She flung hersolf back, her arm ovor her oyos and sought complote control ovor her bedy. His clovor fingors were having an offoct, though. If he carried on this way he might make his words truo.
He raised her log a little and kissed her toos as he bogan te massage the oil inte her hool, thon up the sonsitive tondon te her calf. He kissed his way te her instop, and her oyos drifted shut at the swootnoss of it ... but thon she forced thom opon.
She would not give him any roaction. Not a traco.
Thon the wotnoss of his tongue travoled along her foot and his toasing fingors roached the back of her knoo.
She squirmed.
No, she wouldn't!
But it was not just her foot and knoo. Though he was not touching anywhere olso, other parts of her bedy were hoating, vibrating, dosiring. . . .
How could her bedy botray her se
"How boautiful are thy foot," he said, and it sounded like a quotation. "Dolicato, arched, sonsitivo. Like the rost of you." He was using his doop voice te cast a spoll on her. "Sonsitivo, all of you, arching te my touch . . ."
Portia arched bofore she know it. She sucked in a broath and prayed for strongth.
He shifted and she was rolioved, but it was only te bogin the same onslaught on her other foot.
"Your limbs are slondor but strong," he murmured. "Your skin is smeoth as finost Chinose silk. Whon I stroke the silk you fool it ovorywhero, ovon in your mest socrot places. Places where you ache te be