Malloryn shot her a challenging look.
"You owe me a kiss," she murmured, sliding her hands up his chest. "You cannot simply kiss me on a rooftop and then pretend nothing more is going to come of it. You cannot simply wash my back, and then not touch me again."
"We shouldn't."
"I don't care what we should or shouldn't do. I want you. I want your kiss."
There was a long, slow pause, as if he fought some inner battle.
And then finally conceded.
"Then take it," he whispered.
Night marked his eyes with shadows, and she traced her fingers over the thin curve of his upper lip, ignoring the way he watched her. Ignoring the questions in those eyes.
Instead she leaned down and replaced her finger with her mouth.
The kiss was softer than anything they'd previously shared.
The faint teasing caress of his tongue against hers. The startled intake of his breath, closely followed by the dart of her own tongue. Every time she kissed him, she grew a little more intoxicated with the taste of his mouth and the way he threw himself into each kiss with a passion that defied his cold reputation.
Sweetness turned to hunger. Adele shivered as his hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the fine hairs there.
He reached for the ties of her robe, but she batted his hand away, captured his wrist.
And then placed it, quite firmly, upon the arm of the chair.
"My turn," she whispered.
And he let her.
Malloryn's gray eyes heated as she reached for his cravat.
And then she was dragging it free from his neck with slow, sensuous tugs, their eyes meeting as the cravat fell free.
Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his throat. His pulse kicked, and Adele slid her tongue out of her mouth to lick him there. A tug of her fingers and his top button was undone. Then the next, and so forth, until the hard, muscled planes of his pectorals gaped through the linen. She slid her hands beneath his parted shirt, pushing it wide. Cool skin met her palms, the thump of his heartbeat an intimate drum against the fleshy pad of her hand.
But it was the hollow groove of his collarbone that drew her lips.
And then the satiny skin at the base of his throat as he arched his head back to give her access.
Sweet gods, but she liked this.
And he did too, judging by the corded tension in his powerful thighs.
"Adele."
One word.
Tight with need.
She'd never wanted to hear him say her name like that before, but now that she'd heard it once, she wanted to hear nothing else.
Forever.
Adele let herself suckle at his throat, her thighs clenching slightly in need. He hadn't made a single move to touch her, but her body ached, as if merely being in control of him wielded some sort of pleasure inside her.
She felt powerful.
Glorious.
And completely in control.
"Just what are you planning?" Malloryn murmured, turning his face to hers as she came up for air. The coarse rasp of the stubble on his jaw sent a shiver through her.
Adele captured his face in both hands. "I thought I'd ruin you."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes." She breathed the word into his mouth. "It's always been my intention. Hadn't you realized?"
And then her tongue was stroking against his, her newfound confidence blooming within her as she pressed her breasts to his chest, her thighs straddling his lean hips.
If not for the faint tightening of his fingers over the ends of the armchair, she'd have thought him unmoved.
But that was the challenge, wasn't it?
To break through Malloryn's hard steel walls.
To shatter his almost insurmountable control.
One hand came up, almost hesitantly, to cup her backside.
And then he was urging her against him, the firm length of his erection grinding right between her thighs.
Adele gasped. Only two pieces of fabric separated them.
Malloryn's teeth nipped at her jaw, his other fist clenching in her silken nightgown as the tides between them began to shift.
Oh, no.
No, that wouldn't do at all.
Adele drew back, breathing hard.
The cravat. She needed the cravat. She'd had plans for it, after all.
Malloryn palmed her breasts through her bodice, brushing his lips against— "Don't even think about it," she growled, grabbing a fistful of his hair and denying him.
He responded with a self-satisfied, utterly masculine smile that made her want to kiss him again. And then his thumbs traced teasing circles over her nipples.
"You seem to be losing control of the situation, my dear."
Capturing both wrists, she set his hands firmly on the arms of the chair again.
"I told you once," she said, sliding the tie of her robe free with a slow, stealthy glide, "that this wasn't over. Tonight, you're mine."
"And tomorrow?"
"We deal with tomorrow when it comes," she whispered. "As long as you remember not to fall in love with me, we should be safe. All I want is your body."
A startled laugh escaped him.
This bloody woman.
She defied all of his expectations of her, constantly forcing him to reassess. Adele was both a force to be reckoned with, and a siren who lured him down reckless paths. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to resist her, and now he knew why.
Giving him a wicked smile, she bound one of his arms to the chair with his cravat, and the other with the tie on her robe. His breath came a little more harshly.
"If you have some idea of rousing me like this and then leaving me here, I warn you to think again," he growled, a little flustered by the vulnerability of the situation.
He was always the seducer.
Never the seduced.
"Why ever would I leave you here when I have you at my mercy?"
At my mercy....
Bound to the chair.
This was not to be borne.
And yet....
He couldn't deny he was curious as to her full intentions. "I could free myself if I wanted."
"I know," she teased, as she went to her knees before him. "But are you sure you want to?"