His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 22

Lawrence looked up in surprise as he heard Zehra climb out of the bath behind the screen. She hadn't been in there very long and he worried the water had cooled too fast.

"Was it hot enough?" he asked.

"Oh yes. I didn't need to stay in very long." Zehra came around the changing screen into view, a blanket wrapped tight around her body. She came toward him on dainty bare feet, clutching the edges of the blanket around her shoulders. He caught a glimpse of her bare skin as she moved, and his body turned taut with arousal.

She deserves a gentleman, not a rogue. He forced himself to stay where he was. The old Lawrence would have been on his feet in an instant, sliding that blanket off her, determined to get her on her back on the nearest comfortable surface. But he wanted to be a better man for this woman. When he took Zehra to bed, he wished for it to mean something for both of them. It would be about more than simple pleasure, even if it was doomed not to last. He swallowed hard, his body fighting his mind every second as she drew close.

"I...was drying your clothes." He pointed to where her chemise, gown, and stockings hung over a brass grate close to the fire. It wouldn't be too long before they would be wearable again.

She glanced at the spot and then continued toward him, her head tilted just enough to show the graceful slope of her neck. The distance between them closed, and time seemed to lengthen like a fine gossamer strand. He took in the sight of her and how damned lovely she truly was. From her raven-black hair to her slight upturned nose, even the hint of a scar just above her collarbone, she was perfect. Too perfect. He should have backed up, should have put the chair between them, but he couldn't move. Her hypnotic eyes rooted him to the floor.

Zehra came right up to him and placed a hand on his chest. He reached up to curl his fingers around her wrist, but he sucked in a breath, and she gave him a shove. He fell back into the armchair, staring up at her.

She eased down onto his lap before he could say anything to stop her. The weight of her body was welcome, the feel of her exciting beyond words. The blanket covered his knees, and he tried to fight the urge to pull it away from her body. Every muscle was rigid with tension.

"Zehra, you don't have to-"

She put a finger to his lips. "Shhh." The curve of her lips would have knocked him onto his backside if he hadn't already been sitting down.

"Do you want me, Lawrence?" she asked, her eyes fixed on his mouth in a way that made him hungry beyond measure. He wanted her mouth on his body in the worst way.

He nodded. He'd never been in a situation like this before, where he was the one being seduced. "I want you so much," he whispered, his breath coming faster.

"Then you will kiss me." She trailed a fingertip down his cheek to his mouth. Her touch was light and gentle, but wherever she traced the pad of her finger, it burned his skin deliciously.

"But I cannot take advantage of you. Not like this. I-"

"Hush," Zehra said, her voice even more commanding. "I do not say this out of obligation, but desire. I know my fate, and I accept what must be. But I wish to know some measure of happiness before this all ends. I want to be happy with you." She leaned back and let the blanket drop to her waist, revealing that she was completely naked. The swell of her perfect breasts with dusky nipples were fully open to his view.

Lord, she was lovely, but her beauty wasn't the reason he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her. It was because she was unlike any woman he'd ever met. She was brave, intelligent, warm, passionate. For all the shyness she had shown earlier, she also possessed a strength of will he'd never seen. For the first time in his life, he wanted a woman not because of her looks, but because of who she was.

"Lawrence?" She purred the word, a sweet, irresistible challenge for him to say no.