Page 107 of A Story of Love

His arm slid around her, and he pulled her close. Her leg rubbed against his groin, and she jolted when she realized what she had inadvertently grazed. He was aroused. Very aroused.

“Shh, it’s all right.” He stroked her lightly, the same way one might gentle a nervous horse.

What are you doing? He might care for you, but he will leave you. You will be crushed far worse than you were with Dorian because this time you—

“Would you like to go back to your room, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot on her shoulder.

It would certainly be safer there.

He cupped her jaw, turning her face until she was forced to look down at him. Viewing him from the slightly raised angle threw shadows across the chiseled planes of his face, making him look like a stranger for a moment. But then he was a stranger, wasn’t he? They hardly knew anything about each other—at least nothing that wasn’t common knowledge.

And yet…for some reason he didn’t seem like a stranger. How odd; when had that happened? When had Fast turned from a notorious rake into somebody Lori didn’t just respect, but also liked a great deal?

“Such serious thoughts,” he murmured, smiling. His thick black lashes were a striking contrast to the pale crystalline blue of his eyes, and she could see the beginning of his night beard prickling his tanned skin.

“I want to make love to you, Lorelei.”

Her lips parted and he gently guided her face to his and lightly kissed her, his lips and breath warm and soft. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Chapter 23

Wasn’t it you who just—not even an hour ago—promised that you were going to leave The King’s Purse and go home to Berkeley Square after your drink?

Yes, it had been him. And that had been Fast’s intention, too. Yet here he was, breaking his word to himself yet again.

Fast had known Lorelei Fontenot was trouble from the first time he’d seen her. He’d felt the spark of desire for her even last year at Avington’s betrothal ball, when she’d been covered from toes to chin in a hideous gown that looked like it belonged to somebody’s spinster aunt. Even when she’d had the audacity to accuse him—in the middle of a ton ball, for pity’s sake!—of engaging in child prostitution.

True, the spark he’d felt for her had quickly been overwhelmed by fury, but it had been there all the same.

He should have gone back to Berkeley Square tonight rather than come here. He should have danced attendance on his grandfather, who was already seething that Fast wasn’t living in the family house.

He should have kept her prisoner somewhere else. Perhaps at his family’s estate in Scotland. Somewhere far, far away from him.

He should have done just about anything other than come back to The King’s Purse and immediately—immediately—arrange to have dinner with her.

Quite frankly, the list of things he should have done was almost as long as the list of things he was about to do to her.

Fast shrugged off what he should have done and gave himself up to the pure sensual pleasure of having her in his arms, reveling in the feel of her full sweet lips pressed against his and her soft, curvaceous bottom balanced on his thigh.

How in the hell could a man resist such temptation?

He groaned when she suddenly pulled away. “What is it now?” he asked with a distinctly sulky tone in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, her pupils all but swallowing the magnificent green of her irises.

“Yes, what?”

She laughed softly. “Yes, Fast. I will go to bed with you.” She paused and then added, “Yes, I will m-make love to you.”

Fast stroked the sweet curve of her jaw. “You know if we have intercourse there is always the chance you might conceive, even if I am careful?”

She nodded.

“You needn’t do this just to please me, darling. There are other ways we can amuse ourselves. We don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Fast shot to his feet, lifting her along with him and making her laugh. “I want to see all of you this time,” he said, carefully lowering her to her feet.