Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms #3)(15)
Author: Anna DePalo

She tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying.

“Stay married to me, and you can move these paintings to Downlands.”

“To Downlands?” she challenged, licking suddenly dry lips. “Downlands is no longer mine.”

“It could be solely yours,” Colin countered, his voice low and smooth, “if we remain married. I’ll sign that contract.”

She wasn’t ready for this. She needed time to process…think…

But Colin wasn’t giving her time or space. He stepped closer, within touching distance.

She felt a sizzle skate along her nerve endings.

His hair was short and silky, like mink, and his eyes were dark and gave nothing away. She noticed the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes that had grown infinitesimally more pronounced from three years ago.

She shifted her gaze downward, over the hard planes of his cheekbones and nose, to his mouth. For a hard man, he had soft lips.

As she well knew. On their wedding night, he’d kissed every inch of her, doing a leisurely survey, as she had lain on black satin sheets, the petals from the roses that he’d hastily procured for their ceremony haphazardly scattered around them.

He’d used the petals to tickle and arouse her until she’d moaned and writhed, practically panting for him to take her.

He’d been equally affected. His heart had beat hard and fast, and when he’d slid inside her, there hadn’t been a moment’s doubt about how much he wanted her.

It had been the most decadent thing she’d ever done in her life.

Colin’s lips moved. “You look practically slumberous.”

She jerked her gaze upward and then felt red-hot heat stain her cheeks.

He looked amused but intent. “What were you thinking about? Remembering the last time we were in Vegas?”

Remember? She could feel him in every pore, like an airy caress.

“It was a mistake,” she said automatically.

“How do you know?” he responded. “You refuse to test the proposition.”

“I don’t need to touch fire again to know I’ll get burned.”

She realized instantly that her analogy was off, because his eyes kindled.

“Interesting choice of words,” he murmured. “Is that what we were? Did we go up in smoke?”

“I didn’t say—”

He rested his finger against her lips, stopping her words.

They both went still, searching each other’s eyes.

He lowered his hand only to trail his finger down her chin and then her throat, in a light caress.

He slid his hand to cup the side of her neck, and his thumb found and came to rest on her pulse.

The rapid beat of her heart was a giveaway as to how affected she was, and they both knew it.

“It was good, wasn’t it?” he asked, rubbing soothingly over her rapid pulse. “The best sex ever.”

She swallowed, and her lips parted. She had tried not to think about it, but yes, it had been the most sensational night of her life.

“Should I feel flattered?” she challenged.

He laughed. “Maybe lucky is more like it, since similar nights can be yours for free.”

“Everything has a price.”

“I’m willing to keep paying.”

“And what will I have to pay?”

“Next to nothing compared to what you’ll receive…and what we can create together. What we have created together, remember?”

She sucked in a breath. “It was Vegas. It makes you do crazy things.”

“We’re back here, breathing the same air. And it’s our anniversary.”

Dear Lord. “Our families are enemies. It was forbidden sex, nothing more.”

“We’re married. I’m legally yours and you’re legally mine.”

“Only because you haven’t fought fair.”

“You said that you wanted a man who played for keeps, because you’d been burned before. Yet you threw me back the next morning.”

“So what is it you want now, revenge sex?”

He smiled enigmatically. “Is that going to be your excuse if it’s just as explosive?”

She started to turn her head to the side, but his mouth came down on hers before her denial was complete.

Three years. Three years she’d lived with the memory of what it was like to kiss and be possessed by Colin Granville, Marquess of Easterbridge.

In one moment, however, the memory was washed away by an even more vivid reality.

If Colin had been demanding, she might have had a better chance of resisting him. But he kissed her languidly, as if he was enjoying a sweet drink and had all the time in the world.

He tasted minty and warm. He slid his tongue into her mouth and coaxed her into deepening the kiss.

Belinda felt every sensation as if she was doing tequila shots without the lime. It was heady, and there was no respite.

Colin slid his hand to her rear end, bringing her flush up against his undeniable arousal, and his other hand slid around her back, molding her to him.

Belinda could feel everything through the thin fabric of her matte jersey dress. She became aware of her ni**les jutting and pressing into the unyielding wall of his chest.

She’d been hoping her memories were exaggerated, but Colin lived up to billing and more.

Being in his arms was an intoxicating mix of the dangerous—as if she was walking on a precipice and he was tempting her into unknown and risky territory—and the comforting. He was solid and capable and made her feel oddly free, as if with him, at least, she could finally and truly be herself.

Strange. She shouldn’t feel as if he was someone to whom she might shift her burden. He was a Granville, she reminded herself, and she still wasn’t sure what game he was playing. And it didn’t help that she’d just confirmed she had a visceral sexual reaction to him.

She stilled and then pulled away.

Colin let her go reluctantly.

They stared at each other, both breathing deeply.

Colin’s eyes glittered, but then he gained mastery of himself and banked the fires.

Belinda could only imagine what she looked like. Her lips tingled from his kiss, and she fought a sudden unsettling urge to slip back into his arms for more.

She started to raise her hand to her lips, belatedly realized Colin caught the movement and then abruptly stopped herself.

She bent and grabbed her purse, then turned on her heel and hurried to the door.

She didn’t care that she was fleeing—and he was letting her.

He spoke behind her. “The paintings—”