about we kiss and make up?’ he said, purpose and demand clear in the husky voice.
Before she could respond he brushed his lips across hers, then dipped his head and kissed the swell of her left breast. Raw desire assailed her, paralysing her tongue as he nipped at the sensitive flesh. Her breath gushed out and her head bumped against the door, shock and panic obliterated by the swift jolt of molten heat.
Stop him. Stop this.
The words crashed through her mind. But the only thing that registered was the brutal yearning to feel his mouth on her breast. She could still remember the way his insistent lips had once ignited her senses. Her arms relaxed their death grip on the corset, and the ripe peak spilled out.
She sobbed as he circled the rigid nipple with his tongue, then captured it between his lips and suckled strongly. Vivid memory and raw new sensation tangled as she arched into his mouth. Her thigh muscles clutched and released as she surrendered. He pushed the sagging bodice down, cupped her other breast. She moaned as he tugged at the swelling peak.
The firestorm of need twisted and built. Dazed, she clasped his head, gripping the silky waves—and felt the sharp knock on the door rap against her back.
Her eyes popped open as he raised his head.
‘Hell, ten years isn’t enough,’ he murmured, the sinful chocolate gaze hot with lust and knowledge.
She scrambled away, shame shattering the sensual spell. Drawing in a ragged breath, she grasped the sagging corset, covered herself, wincing as the cool satin touched tender flesh.
The knock sounded again, and panic skittered up her spine.
What had just happened? What had she let happen? How could he still have this effect on her?
‘Excuse me, Your Grace.’ The tentative voice, muffled by the door, broke the charged silence. ‘Would you like me to leave the tray here?’
‘Just a minute,’ Gio shouted, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Stand over there,’ he murmured, nodding to a space behind the door that would keep her out of sight.
She bristled at the note of command, but stepped back. She had to get out of here. Before this got any worse.
‘I have your brandy and iced water, Your Grace,’ the footman announced as Gio swung open the door. ‘And the lady’s coat. It was on the hall chair downstairs.’
‘Great,’ Gio said curtly as he took the coat from unseen hands. Glancing her way, he passed it to her.
She stuffed her arms into the sleeves. Hastily tying the corset laces, she belted the mac as she watched Gio hand over a large tip and take the tray from the invisible footman.
He scowled as he pushed the door shut. ‘Let’s talk,’ he said, sliding the tray onto the table beside the door.
‘No, let’s not,’ she said, pleased that she’d stopped shaking long enough to cover some of her modesty.
She stepped forward and gripped the door handle, but she had wrestled it open less than an inch before his hand slapped against the wood, holding it closed.
‘Stop behaving like a child. Surely after ten years you’re over that night?’
She flinched at the impatient words. Then straightened, his casual reference to the worse night of her life forcing her pride to finally put in an appearance. Better late than never.
‘Of course I’m over it,’ she said emphatically, ignoring the ache under her breastbone. ‘I’m not a child any more. Or an imbecile.’
She’d rather suffer the tortures of hell than admit she’d cried herself to sleep for over a month after he’d gone. And lived with that pointless spurt of hope every time the phone rang for much longer. It was pathetic. And all completely academic now.
She might still have a problem controlling her body’s reaction to him. But thankfully her heart was safe. She wasn’t that overly romantic child any more—who’d believed infatuation was love.
But that didn’t mean she was going to forgive him.
‘I may have been young and foolish.’ She tried not to cringe at the memory of how young and foolish. ‘But luckily I happen to be a fast learner.’
Fast enough to know she would never fall that easily again. And especially not for a man like Gio, who didn’t understand love and had no idea what it was worth.
‘What’s the problem, then?’ He shrugged, as if that night had never happened. ‘There’s still a powerful attraction between us.’ His eyes lowered to her lips. ‘The way you just responded to me is proof of that. So why get upset because we acted on it?’
‘I’m not upset!’ she shouted. She paused, lowered her voice. ‘To get upset, I’d actually have to give a damn.’
She turned to make her getaway again, but his hand slammed back against the door.
‘Will you stop doing that?’ she said, exasperated.
‘You’re not leaving until we sort out your situation,’ he said, with infuriating patience.
‘What situation?’
‘You know very well what situation.’
His mouth had flattened into a grim line. What on earth was he on about?
‘In case you haven’t noticed, Your Dukeship, this is a free country. You can’t hold me here against my will.’
‘Nothing’s free—and you know it.’ His eyes raked over her outfit. ‘Let me spell it out. I’m here in the UK having Hamilton Hall renovated, which means I can transfer the money you need by the end of today.’
What?
Her tongue went numb. Good God, he’d rendered her speechless again.
‘And don’t tell me you like working as a stripper,’ he continued, clearly oblivious to her rising outrage, ‘because I saw how petrified you were when Carstairs put his paws on you. My guess is this was your first job. And I intend to ensure it’s also your last.’
‘I’m not a stripper,’ she all but choked. Of all the arrogant, patronising, overbearing…‘And even if I were, I would never be desperate enough to ask you for help.’
She’d always stood on her own two feet, had worked hard for her independence and was proud of what she’d achieved—even if it was all about to belong to the bank.
‘If you’re not a stripper,’ he said, scepticism sharpening his voice, ‘then what on earth were you doing downstairs?’
‘I was delivering a singing telegram.’
His brow furrowed. ‘A what?’
‘Never mind.’ She waved the question away. Why was she explaining herself to him? ‘The point is, I don’t need your help.’
‘Stop being stupid.’
