Chapter Three

Luc stepped in front of one of the male dancers, cutting into the man’s spot, ignoring the protest. Bowing to his female partner, Luc then took her hand and waited for the music to begin. He didn’t particularly care for dancing, but he was making an exception this night. Anything that would get him before the intriguing raven-haired female.

And her beautiful flushed form.

He’d seen her excuse herself from her admirers. He’d seen her speak to a woman he was all but certain was the well-known Nicole de Grammont. They were clearly talking about him—given the way they’d both continued to glance at him as they spoke. Dieu, he liked the way she looked at him. Very much. As though there was no one else in the room.

He couldn’t help but reciprocate the very same way.

This pull to her was beyond enticing. It beckoned him from across the grand salon.

Out of all the women here, she was the only one he wanted to learn more about. Her initial reaction to him had to have been in error. She must have mistaken him for someone else. If this was the courtesan Juliette Carre, then they didn’t know each other. He’d never met her before.

But he was hell-bent on changing that.

The longer they stared at each other, the more strongly he felt a delicious heat rushing through his veins. It had already grown to a level that was impossible to ignore.

Without exchanging a single word.

The attraction was raw. Instant. He couldn’t remove the smile from his face. As he watched her enter the dance floor and take her place in the menuet, giving her partner a curtsy—her attention deliciously drawn back to him again and again—his every rakish instinct told him that a carnal encounter between the two of them would be nothing short of intense. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a skilled courtesan.

And everything to do with the palpable allure between them.

The music began. His heart pounded to its own beat. He moved to the next female, anxiously waiting until the dance rotation brought him face-to-face with her. He was one dance partner away. Another few steps. Another turn to the left. Then one more to the right.

And finally, he clasped the hand of the one woman he wanted to dance with.

Surprisingly, her hand was cooler than he would have imagined, given her flushed skin. Was she…nervous? Before he could dwell on that, she smiled at him.

Jésus-Christ. It practically knocked him back.

Her smile was even lovelier up close. As for that little dimple near the corner of her mouth, it was just too damned adorable.

This woman had a smile that was utterly contagious. “I couldn’t help notice that you’ve been watching me, mademoiselle.”

“I could say the same of you, my lord.” He liked the sound of her voice. There was a delightful playfulness to her tone.

And she smelled so good. The light scent of jasmine seduced his senses. He was having a difficult time concentrating on the steps of the dance. “Have mercy on us mere mortals. You are so fine to behold, I couldn’t help myself.”

She laughed. “Mere mortals? Are you suggesting I am a goddess?”

They turned with the music, then clasped hands again. He purposely grazed his thumb down her palm, then wisped across her wrist, enjoying the small gasp she gave at the light sensation. His groin tightened. She was highly responsive to him.

How delectable was that?

“Yes, that is what I strongly suspect,” he said. “Though, I think further investigation is in order.” He was running out of time. He’d be on to the next partner in moments. And he wanted to be alone with her. So badly. “Meet me in the library at the end of the dance, beautiful Juliette. I promise, you will enjoy every moment.”

*****

Isabelle’s skin still tingled where he’d caressed her as she moved to her next partner in the menuet—an older, potbellied gentleman.

“I promise, you will enjoy every moment…”

Those seven little words from Lord Seductive’s lips had lanced straight into her core, making her sex clench. Her every nerve ending hummed with awareness.

Who in heaven’s name is he?

He’d managed to rattle her when she didn’t believe she could be rattled by any man anymore.

It was a challenge just to stay in step, her mind turning much faster than the turns in the dance. How in the world had a few charming words, a light caress, and a sexual proposition incited any responses from her body? Much less such potent ones? Regardless of who he reminded her of, he shouldn’t have had this kind of impact. Not with so little effort. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been propositioned before. Lord knows she’d been on the receiving end of a forward caress many a time. She’d heard every sultry word and flowery phrase a man would utter to a woman he was trying to bed. Yet no one had spiked her pulse or left her feeling heated from the inside out.

Except the man who wanted to meet her in the library.

She was even more drawn to him than before. And more curious about him than ever. As she turned in time with the music, she couldn’t help casting a glance in the direction of the enticing aristo.

Her stomach lurched. He was gone.

A slim man with an orange mask and a ridiculously long purple plume had taken his spot in the menuet.

She quickly scanned the other dancers one by one, in case she’d missed him somehow. She hadn’t. He was nowhere on the dance floor. Dear God, had he left for the library already? Was he there at this very moment waiting for her?

The mere thought made her insides flutter.

Again.

Something told her Lord Seductive wasn’t full of idle words. He could—and would—make good on his promise of pleasure. A thrill rippled up her spine. Whoever he was, her intense attraction to him was unbalancing. And gave her pause.

She had to preserve the façade of being seasoned and sophisticated about sex at all cost.

He couldn’t know that she found him in any way daunting.

Nicole had taught her to place her lovers in one of two groupings: those who paid for her favors. And those she favored whom she enjoyed for free. It made men work harder to earn the preferable grouping. And to remain there. Yet she hadn’t had enough lovers to forgo a fee.

She could simply return to Vannod. But if she didn’t meet the seductive lord in the library, she might never learn who he was. Not to mention the liaison could bolster her socially too. Liar. Those are not the only reasons you want to meet him, a voice inside her countered. For the first time in a very long time, she’d found a man who was desirable. Exciting. She hadn’t felt either for any male in too many years. He offered a rapture she’d never known. Nor had she realized just how starved her senses were—until he touched her.

He’d addressed her as Juliette. Clearly, he had taken the time to learn her name. As she moved from dance partner to dance partner, her desire to go to the library mounted.

So, he intimidates you. So what? That’s no reason to back away.

He was a challenge. She’d dealt with many challenges in her life. Besides, Juliette Carre was a courtesan. And courtesans had clandestine encounters with gentlemen. It was expected.

She could have at least one she was actually interested in.

As the final strains of music faded away, she made up her mind. She’d meet the handsome aristo in the library. She’d keep to her role—and perform it convincingly. As she had thus far.

Moreover, she’d learn just who was behind the mask.

*****

Luc arrested his steps in the library and softly cursed.

Dieu. He was pacing again.

He hadn’t been this restless since his time in prison, when he filled the long, empty hours with endless pacing and torturous thoughts of his possible execution.

Waiting for Juliette to arrive was almost as excruciating.

With a far more decadent outcome if the lady arrived.

Placing his hands on his hips, he blew out a sharp breath, exasperated with himself. His proposition to her had been ridiculously abrupt.

She may not come…

He hoped to God that wasn’t the case. That the simmering desire between them would be enough to draw her to the library. To him. Damn it, he was normally more adept at charming a woman he was attracted to.

And she has a crowd of men out there wanting the very same thing you want from her. Perhaps propositioning her at this very moment—far better than the way you did.

A pang of jealousy slammed him in the gut, taking him by surprise. Where the hell did that come from? He wasn’t the possessive type.

Not ever.

Luc strode over to the window and braced his palms against its frame, staring absently out at the courtyard as rain began to streak down the pane of glass. This whole situation had him uncharacteristically unbalanced. The last thing he expected to happen tonight was to meet a woman for whom he was practically panting. And who so closely resembled the mental image he’d had of Isabelle Laurent.

For the longest time, he’d been convinced that if he could have had just one encounter with the real Isabelle, it would have been enough to snap the spell she’d cast on him. But that was impossible. No matter how much he wished it. He’d begun to despair that the ghost of Isabelle Laurent would forever torment him.

And now, incredibly, beautiful Juliette had come along.

Could being with her be just like being with Isabelle? He’d never pretended to be with one woman while bedding another. Nor had he ever paid for sex—not when it had always been offered for free. Yet, he’d be willing to pay this one gorgeous courtesan a king’s ransom if she could just give him back his mental peace.

Then he could purge Isabelle Laurent from his system. His thoughts. His dreams.

There was no question. He had to break this hold she had on him so he could move forward with his life without this maddening fascination he had for a deceased woman.

The sound of rustling skirts snagged his attention. He spun around. The sight of Juliette standing at the threshold of the library made his heart skip a beat. She had a slight smile on her delectable mouth. And those luscious breasts of hers were rising and falling more quickly than normal with each soft accelerated breath she took. A telltale sign of arousal. His cock thickened in an instant, his prick suddenly feeling as heavy as lead.

She is here.

And fuck…she wants you.

She looked so good standing in the doorway. Part of him wanted to stalk across the room and tear off her demi-mask just so he could take in the beauty of her entire face. But he was afraid to do anything that would alter this moment. It was all too perfect, from the desire crackling between them to the sheer perfection of the woman before him. How fucking fortunate was he? Of all the men vying for her, she’d selected him. And she was a courtesan. A woman whose very occupation it was to fulfill men’s fantasies. As he drank in the sight of her—every sweet inch of her edible little form—he knew she’d already done her job.

She was every bit the extraordinary beauty he imagined Isabelle would have been.

Before him was his fantasy come to life.

Christ. Not just his. She was every man’s fantasy come true. He fully understood the clamoring Marc said she caused, why every man of means threw riches at her—just for a moment like this.

Yet again, he found himself unable to hold back a smile. He’d made this beautiful woman a promise—and he couldn’t wait to fulfill it. He was going to see to it that she did indeed enjoy every moment. He was going to show her the extent of his gratitude and the depth of his desire for her.

One stunning climax at a time.

*****

Isabelle watched as he approached, all that tall, strong, masculine beauty coming her way.

Anticipation gripped her.

The way he moved was riveting. With the confidence of a man who knew just how to take a woman to ecstasy and back. Her sex was already slick. The bud between her legs had begun to pulse. This man incited her breathing, ignited her blood. She’d stopped believing she’d ever find anyone who could set her on fire this way. Her long-dormant body was fully awake and starved for what he offered. It was completely ludicrous, but she was actually battling the urge to launch herself at him.

Clearly, she was even lonelier than she realized if a stranger in a mask could discompose her this way.

Lonely or not, you are going to experience true passion.

For once, she wasn’t going to have to close her eyes and force herself to pretend she was with Luc de Moutier just to get through the experience. This man made it easy. Everything about him made her want this encounter.

Her seductive lord stopped before her, his body all but touching hers. Her heart was thundering so loudly, she feared he’d hear it.

She wanted him so badly… For goodness sake, compose yourself.

Leaning in, he reached behind her—his arm brushing her waist—and closed the door. She felt the sensation right through her clothing.

The lock clicked into place.

He straightened and smiled down at her. “I’m so very pleased you’re here.”

Dear God. His voice was low and oh so sultry. She gazed at his enticing mouth and for a moment couldn’t help ponder how he’d taste—the thought taking her by surprise.

She had certain rules, ones she never broke during her carnal encounters. One of which was no kissing.

The only act of intimacy that wasn’t for sale.

The only act that hadn’t been tainted by Juliette and her occupation. Or by the things that had happened to her before she became Juliette. Roch had disliked the act of kissing, and thankfully, she’d never been forced to endure it with him.

If truth be told, neither Isabelle—nor Juliette—had ever experienced a real kiss.

During sex, she knew how to detach and put on an engaging performance. But a kiss was different. Designed to be romantic. And, perhaps, ridiculous though it was, she wanted to experience it with a man—someone significant—who truly deserved that level of intimacy from her. Whether he’d ever know it or not.

“Juliette?”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she realized she hadn’t responded to his welcome.

“I’m glad you’re pleased, my lord,” she said. “But there is something that would please me.”

His beautiful smile returned. “Do tell, and allow me to fulfill your wishes.”

She flinched at the word wishes. From her experience, only dreadful things came of making wishes. Long ago, she’d made three. Every one of them came true.

And had leveled her life.

“It would please me to know whom I have the pleasure of speaking to.” Somehow, she managed to utter the sentence without sounding as breathless as she felt.

His disarming smile never wavered. He surprised her by taking her hand in his. It was strong and warm, and she liked the feel of it enveloping hers—far more than she would have ever expected.

He led her to the center of the room, then stopped abruptly. In one swift movement, he gripped her hips, picked her up, and set her bottom down on the large ebony-and-gold side table against the wall.

Her eyes widened.

Lord Seductive braced his hands against the side table on either side of her knees and gazed into her eyes. She had to quash the urge to squirm.

Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth over her bare shoulder ever so lightly. She lost her breath. The sensations rippled down to the tips of her breasts. She tightly gripped the edge of the table with both hands. He trailed his lips up her neck—a slow, silky stroke—all the way to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Pressing a hot, knee-weakening kiss there.

She barely caught the mewl that shot up her throat.

“No,” he whispered in her ear before pulling back, his face mere inches from hers. Her quickened breaths mingling with his.

She blinked. “No?” Try as she might, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes given the shadow his mask cast and the limited light from the hearth on the other side of the room.

“Identities stay hidden until midnight. Those are the rules at any masque. Masks are not removed until then.” His smile graced his sensuous mouth once more.

“My lord, you know who I am. You could tell me your name without revealing your face.”

He placed his hands on her knees over her gown. Her heart skipped a beat. She immediately knew what he was about to do. “This desire between us and this moment are perfect. Let’s not change a thing.” He spread her legs apart.

Her sex responded with a warm gush. Isabelle dug her nails into the edge of the table, acutely aware of the void between her legs and the ache to be filled.

The likes of which she’d never experienced before.

He stepped between her legs. “All you need to know about me at the moment is that I’m the man who’s going to make you come—several times—before we leave this room.” He gripped her hips and yanked her close. His solid shaft coming in sudden contact with the sensitized bud between her legs. A soft cry shot up her throat. Her hands flew to his shoulders and held on, her breaths ragged. He was applying perfect pressure where she needed it most.

He rolled his hips, the friction exquisite. She closed her eyes, unable to contain her moan. Her clit was throbbing hard against him now.

His hot mouth was back against her neck. She tilted her head, giving him complete access. After so many empty encounters, she reveled in this.

In this moment of real passion.

The kind she could lose herself in.

Anxieties that plagued her every waking moment—for her son and herself—melted away. Lost to the glorious sensations coursing through her body. It didn’t matter who this man was anymore. Or that the attraction to him had been triggered by an old girlhood infatuation. All that mattered to her right now was the pleasure saturating her senses. She’d stumbled upon a small miracle; she’d found someone who had a magic touch, a man able to do what no other ever had. To pull her out of reality.

Into sexual oblivion.

Temporary as this was, she couldn’t be more grateful.

“What say you, Juliette? Shall we begin?” he murmured in her ear and gently bit her lobe. She whimpered.

Good Lord, hadn’t they commenced already? You’ve let this get away from you before addressing essential preliminaries. Focus! This wasn’t just an amorous encounter between lovers.

She squeezed his strong shoulders and forced herself to push him away.

His head shot up, and for a moment, she thought he’d flinched at her touch before dismissing it as absurd.

Grasping her wrists, he pulled her hands from his shoulders, placed a kiss on one wrist, then held them. “What is the matter, chère?” Gone was his beguiling smile. Confusion, or perhaps it was concern, was etched on his brow.

“Since you know who I am…then you must know there’s a…” The usual words caught in her throat this time. She forced them out. “There is a fee for this.” How she hated this part. Blatantly selling herself. Never more so than with this particular man.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his appealing mouth. “Name your price, beautiful Juliette. Whatever it is, you are worth it.”

God, how she wanted him. More than anything. Desperate for some friction—any relief from the torment between her legs—she squirmed against his delicious hard bulge wedged against her. The jolt of sensations snatched the breath from her lungs.

Without thought, a price tumbled from her mouth on a pant. She realized immediately that what she’d asked for was almost twice what Vannod had offered.

What any man had offered.

She wanted to kick herself.

You’ve just asked for an exorbitant amount. Despite his words, he was going to walk away for certain now! Her body railed against the mere thought.

“Agreed,” he said, without hesitation. She couldn’t have been more astounded. “Is that it? Or is there more you wish to discuss?” His voice was tinged with urgency. Hearing it only heightened her hunger.

“A couple more things. Are you married?” Foolishly, she’d let this go further than normal before knowing the answer to that all too important question. She didn’t engage in sex with a married man—no matter how it limited her pool of income. Or how much she desired the man before her. She’d end this now if he had a wife. Isabelle held her breath, praying he’d say no.

“I am not married. Never have been.”

Joy welled inside her. “Lastly…”

“Yes?” She could tell even by that one word that he was becoming impatient.

“No kissing.” It was amazing just how much regret she felt voicing that sentence to this man.

He went silent for a moment, and she could tell she’d surprised him. Then his lips quirked in what looked suspiciously like amusement. He placed her hands down on the edge of the table where she’d gripped it before. “Keep your hands here,” he said. Before she could respond to his odd request, he cupped her breast.

She went stock-still.

“Now then, you are going to have to be much more specific, Juliette. Where am I not permitted to kiss you?” He stroked his thumb over her nipple. “Here?” He repeated his caress again.

And again.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The sensations were rippling into her core. The ache between her legs becoming unbearable.

“No… I mean, yes,” she said. “Right there is…fine.” His strokes were melting her mind.

He slipped his other hand beneath her gown, his fingers grazing along her inner thigh, getting closer and closer to her needy clit. Every fiber of her being willed him forward.

“What about here?” He scored a finger along the slit of her caleçons. She practically jumped right off the table at the merest touch of her ultrasensitive bud.

“Well, sweet Juliette?” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this. She was dying. “You’re going to have to give me an answer, ma belle.”

She licked her lips. He knew full well where she didn’t want to be kissed. She’d play this his way, if she didn’t first expire on the spot from lust. “Yes…there… There is fine, too… I meant on the—” He cupped her sex. Her thoughts scattered.

“On the lips?” he supplied, sliding his hand inside the slit of her drawers. He began massaging her slick folds with delicious deftness. With a whimper, she slumped back against the wall, arching for more.

“Y…Yes…lips… ”

*****

Luc couldn’t take his eyes off the sensuous woman before him. He continued to stroke her, giving her enough stimulation to keep her keen. But not enough to let her come. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and her cheeks were pink. The way she was coming undone for him was so fucking inflaming.

If he’d been fascinated by her before, he was even more so now. He’d spent years as an unrepentant rake before his family’s disgrace. More than one courtesan had favored him with a gratis tumble or two, just to boast they’d been with a member of the then preeminent Moutier family. Particularly the youngest son of Charles de Moutier, Marquis de Blainville. Luc’s once wild, unbridled reputation both in and out of the boudoir had always garnered him his share of women.

And he’d never met a courtesan who refused married men. Or a kiss.

Anywhere.

It would be a lie if he told her he wasn’t disappointed. Especially when she had such a seductive mouth. He really wanted to find out why, what her motivation was behind her intriguing rules. But it was going to have to wait. At the moment, he was enjoying what he was doing far too much. She was so luscious. Her sex so hot, wet, and silky soft, already primed for the taking. And given how hard and heavy his cock felt, he knew he was in for a powerful orgasm with this woman.

As spine melting a climax as he was about to give her—if—he hoped—she’d be willing to abide by his one rule during sex.

She arched hard, trying to grind her engorged little clit against his palm. Famished for some friction. He easily evaded her efforts without ceasing his caresses to the rest of her slick sex.

With his free hand, he captured her pebbled nipple through her gown and gave it a playful pinch. She bit her bottom lip and gave him a mew she couldn’t contain. Jésus-Christ, everything she did made him want to fuck her.

If she wouldn’t let him taste her mouth, he was going to taste the rest of her. Every last sweet inch—starting with those delectable little nipples that were straining so hard for him inside her chemise.

He dipped his head and in her ear said, “I’m going to open your gown, and then these pretty nipples are mine.”

She shivered with excitement. It reverberated through him all the way down to the tip of his prick, making him seep some spunk.

Mentally, he swore. He was picking up the bloody pace. Get the preliminaries over and done with. “But before we go any further, I have a rule too.” Needing her undivided attention, he reluctantly released her nipple and withdrew his hand from her inviting cunt.

Her eyes flew open, soft pants continuing to slip ever so sensually past her lips. She met his gaze, clearly distressed at his cessation of their sexual play. Yet there was also curiosity in her eyes. And that pleased him more than she could ever know.

You have her attention now. Out with it. He untied his cravat, slipped it from his neck, and held it out before her. “You’ll be bound while I take you.”

He caught the surprise in her dark eyes. She glanced at the cravat in his hand, then back at him. “Bound?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

For many reasons… “For pleasure. Yours and mine. It heightens the encounter.” Not exactly the whole truth, but all he was prepared to say. While there was nothing sweeter than a woman’s complete surrender—bound with a silk scarf or cravat—he liked that kind of control. He needed it. And he valued every woman who’d placed their trust in him during sex and ceded it to him. In truth, he valued each and every pleasurable moment he’d ever had in his life. It helped combat the dark ones. Not to mention that having her hands rendered incapable of touching his back, even by accident, allowed him to relax and simply relish the experience. And kept the memories at bay.

She stared at him, incredulous.

“Think of it as merely a sex game. One where we both win. One I’ll make certain you enjoy,” he added. For a fleeting moment, he was mildly surprised that as a courtesan, if she hadn’t participated in such sexual practices, she hadn’t at least heard of it. Gatherings of debauchery among the aristocracy occurred frequently. And there were no shortage of courtesans present at them. Yet, oddly, she seemed to be hearing of the concept for the first time. He’d discovered it years ago while attending his first such party at the Vicomte d’Inville’s château—the entertainment purely carnal, with every type of decadent diversion to suit all sexual tastes.

From the mild to the depraved.

Whippings were not Luc’s taste, not on either end of the whip. In no way could he ever associate sexual pleasure with a lashing. He’d endured the lash more times than he’d ever allowed himself to remember. He’d practically raced from the room as a wave of white-hot anger surged inside him at the first sight of it back then. But the carnal play he’d observed that involved erotic bondage…well, that was entirely different.

That had become the most liberating, sublime diversion he’d ever known.

He wasn’t the only one who indulged in such sexual play. But he was probably the only man who never took a woman unless she was bound.

Luc saw her pull her gaze from the cravat in his hand and move it to the door of the library. Fuck. She was contemplating a departure from the room. Perhaps a hasty one at that.

He immediately stepped back, giving her more room, not wanting to scare her into believing she was trapped. Or that he’d force this on her.

His body instantly balked at the loss of contact from her soft form.

Luc dragged in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to master his desire, his blood pounding in his veins. It didn’t help that his sac was so tight and full, he wanted to howl in frustration.

Yet, no matter how badly he wanted her, if she was going to submit to him this way, it had to be of her own free will. He’d only ever had two women refuse. He’d walked away, respecting their wishes. Both times.

“Juliette, you are free to leave, if you wish.” Don’t go… “But if you stay, I swear, you won’t regret your trust in me. This is about mutual pleasure. I’ll make you come harder than you’ve ever come before.”

*****

Isabelle’s head was spinning. Her body feverish. She warred between wanting to yield to his startling—highly provocative—request.

And wanting to leave the library. Posthaste.

Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to quash the desire to know what it would be like to submit to him in the way he suggested and experience the heightened pleasure he promised. To lose herself in this man who so reminded her of Luc. Her body was screaming, SAY YES!

But you don’t know him. Don’t know his identity. And she wasn’t reckless anymore. She had a child now who had no one but his mother in this world to care and provide for him. She’d stopped trusting men with influence after Vittry and Roch were through with her. When one had tried to murder her and the other had so grossly deceived and manipulated her, she’d learned it prudent to distrust the male aristocracy.

There were three things she’d never risk again: Her life, her freedom, and her free will.

It was one thing to meet Lord Seductive in the library—especially after making certain to inform Nicole where she’d be. But to allow herself to be bound, rendered that vulnerable, simply because a stranger told her he was trustworthy, was far too careless, regardless of the amount of money being offered. Words were empty.

Especially from the mouths of powerful men.

She hadn’t even brought Yves and Serge with her tonight, Nicole’s largest servants who normally accompanied her to her carnal encounters. Yet even having them nearby wouldn’t have been enough for her to surrender to such a request from this stranger.

No matter how hard the bud between her legs pulsed, no matter how eager she was for more decadent delights from him or how intrigued by his wicked game, she managed to drag the words she needed to say up her throat. And out of her mouth.

“I can’t…”

She slipped off the table and onto her feet before he could react, then stepped away from him, putting distance between them.

And hating it.

He didn’t make a move to hinder her retreat in any way. Instead, he placed his hands on his hips, and his smiled turned rueful. With a nod, he said, “I understand.”

For some reason, that sank her spirits. She was wishing for…what? A protest and compromise of some sort?

A withdrawal of his condition to bind her altogether?

She’d have to be completely blind to miss that impressive part of his male anatomy that was still solid and erect and straining inside his breeches. Was he just going to let her walk away when he wanted her as strongly as she wanted him? This couldn’t be just a sex game to him. Could it? There had to be more to his sexual practice then he was saying.

And she couldn’t help wonder what.

Isabelle held his gaze, unsure what more to say. Willing him to somehow change his mind. The fact that he hadn’t attempted to coerce her, as some men of his standing might have—as Roch certainly would have when he was this aroused—made her want to stay with him even more.

But not tied up and defenseless.

Silence saturated the air. His expression was unreadable, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. The quiet grew to the point of awkwardness.

You can’t continue to stand here and stare at him. Bid him adieu and leave, Isabelle.

Instead, entirely different words escaped past her lips. “I-I would stay…if you were to withdraw your condition.” She immediately cringed. That sounded pathetically desperate.

His smile didn’t change. “It’s how I want you. It’s how I fuck,” he said.

Her knees practically buckled at his blunt language. From this man’s lips alone, it had the most stunning effect on her libido.

“It is wicked,” he continued, with a lopsided smile on that tempting mouth. “It is also entirely intense and delicious. And you should try it—with me.” His words, the timbre of his voice, and his heated gaze fixed her to the spot.

A triple blow to her defenses.

Dear God. If you don’t leave right now, you run the risk of succumbing to his allure. And end up trussed up like a goose.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, then unstuck her feet from the floor and turned to go, her body rioting against her actions.

When she reached the door, she heard him call out, “Juliette.”

Her insides danced with joy. She turned around, managing to keep her smile from showing. Everything inside her hoped he’d changed his mind and removed his condition.

“Yes?”

“Are you going back to Vannod?” he asked.

Not exactly what she thought she’d hear. “Perhaps.” In truth, the answer was yes. She’d given up a small fortune by turning down Lord Seductive’s sexual proposition. She wouldn’t turn down Vannod’s sum too.

He approached and stopped before her, his chiseled form now towering above her. No man on this side of the stars should be this gorgeous. She wanted to lean in and wrap her arms around him. Just to feel that strong, solid chest against her and his muscular arms about her—a longing she hadn’t had for a male in years.

“He can’t give you the pleasure I can,” he said.

Oh, she didn’t doubt that for a moment.

She’d never felt the intense pull to Vannod as she did to this aristo. Though, I doubt Vannod harbors a penchant for tying women up during physical encounters. From the extensive information Nicole had given her about the duc, he was just like her last lover.

Safe. Conventional.

Tolerable.

And for those times when it was more of a chore than others, she need only conjure up Luc de Moutier in her mind.

“My lord, it would be wrong of me to discuss one man’s sexual prowess with another.”

He placed his hands on his hips again and tilted his head, quietly studying her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to do at the moment.

Then he swore under his breath. “I don’t make exceptions. I don’t withdraw my condition of sexual bondage.”

Really? “Never?”

“Not ever. That is…until tonight. With you.” Tossing the cravat he’d had in his hand carelessly to the floor, he clasped her shoulders and pressed her back against the door. There was nothing threatening in the way in which he did it. There was just enough sensual command in the action to spark a fresh flare of arousal in her belly.

He released her, then he flattened his palms against the door at either side of her head. His mouth was so close to her own. She held her breath, unsure what he would do.

“Easy. There is no need to tense up. I’ll abide by your wishes. There will be no kissing—on the lips—though not ever tasting that beautiful mouth is going to be one of the greatest regrets of my life. It takes trust to allow someone to bind you. I’m going to earn your trust, chère. If you are willing, I’m going to give you a sampling of what I can offer—with no binding.”

Every fiber of her being reveled in his words. “A…A sampling? As in a small taste?” Oh yes, please!

Lord Seductive then gave her a purely male knee-weakening grin. “I don’t do anything in small measures. So, tell me, ma belle, does your next orgasm belong to me?”