Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

She nipped his chest. “Perhaps at some point. But right now I’d like you to toss me on that bed over there. Or if we can’t make it that

far, the floor right here will do.”

His lips tangled with hers, his tongue promising wicked things to come.

She arched as his lips moved on to her breasts, then gasped, twining her fingers in his hair to keep him there. “I vote for right here.

Now.”

He pulled away and lifted her into his arms. “If I’m tossing you, it will have to be the bed. The floor would hurt.”

Always so precise. She barely stifled a gasp as she tumbled from his arms and landed with an oof in the middle of the bed. “Did I

mention in my fantasy you aren’t wearing any trousers?”

He kicked off his boots, then stripped off his trousers, pausing at the edge of the bed.

Sweet heavens.

As lusty as she thought she was, this might never work. Yet she scrambled up on her elbows, desperate to touch him. She ran a

fingertip down the thick length of his arousal. And he shuddered.

“How do you expect me to have tame, ladylike fantasies after seeing this?”

He groaned when she swirled her finger over the tip, then caught her hand, pinning it over her head.

“Despite the fact that my fantasy had you in bed, it wasn’t tame.” He climbed onto the bed beside her and his finger traced a slow

line down her belly, only to stop at the curls at the tops of her thighs. “I planned to make you beg.”

“Beg?” She rolled her hips, trying to urge that finger lower. But when that finger traced down the fronts of her thighs, she suddenly

understood his devilishness.

Slowly, his finger inched back up, circling that most sensitive spot but not touching. Instead, he lowered his lips to her breasts,

teasing the aching nipples.

Confound him. She clenched her legs together, alarmed at the wetness between them.

With each flick of his tongue, the throbbing need increased. “Please.”

“We’re back to politeness?”

She would say anything at this point. She’d been wanting this for too long. “I need—”

“You need this?” His hand finally cupped her aching core. But when one finger slowly parted the folds and brushed that most

sensitive nub, once and then again, her body flew apart. She grabbed his shoulders in shock as waves of bliss radiated through her,

her core clenching and throbbing, begging for more. She cried his name until he covered her mouth with his own, drinking of her

passion. Driving her pleasure higher.

When she could manage opening her eyes, Clayton was watching her with a smile crooked on his lips. “I’d intended to make you

beg a little more first.”

“I’ll let you try again sometime.” She reached up to stroke him again and he flung his head back. This naughty side of her personality

was proving quite insatiable. She caressed him again. The throbbing resumed between her legs, reminding her of what was yet to

come.

This whole final portion of the lovemaking might not work, but her body was eager to try. She slowly positioned him at her slick

entrance. “In fact, you can try again now.”

Clayton had never known a man could die of pleasure. But he was certain of it now. He pressed slowly forward, giving her time to

adjust to him. But her body was tight and inexperienced. He slowly stroked her until she relaxed around him.

Only then did he slowly begin to move.

He’d thought to call on every ounce of control he possessed to make her beg again, but he didn’t need it. She was already growing

wild beneath him.

When she began to writhe to meet his thrusts, all thought of control disappeared. He gave himself to her completely, hiding nothing,

concealing not a single weakness. Not the way his body shuddered. Not his desperation to give her everything.

And she pressed kisses to his chest and reveled in it all. When her body clenched around him and she moaned his name again, he

rode her pleasure to his own. Emotions long contained swirled, peaking, flooding every inch of his body with ecstasy. Blinding him

to everything but the woman under him.

So beautiful. His diamond.

Mine.

His heart threatened to break through his rib cage long after his breathing slowed. He rolled to the side and clutched her to him.

Happiness. He was bloody elated for the first time in a decade.

After a moment, Olivia lifted her head; her brow was creased.

He stroked her side. “What’s wrong?” Had he been too rough? He’d taken her virginity without much finesse.

But her look of concern was ruined by a single quirk in her lip. “How long would it take you to retrieve the jar of blackberry jam?”





chapter Thirty-two

“I hate to interrupt your preconnubial bliss. But we have a very irate minister of the police downstairs who wishes to talk to you. And

Olivia.” Ian spoke from outside the door.

Light streamed in the windows. How long had she slept? It had been months since she’d slept more than a few hours. Always

fearing her plans for the mill would come crashing down around her.

Clayton pulled her tighter against him, the hair on the back of his arm tickling the underside of her breast. But she was fully alert now,

and a similar tension hummed through Clayton.

Apparently, Golov had decided not to take her advice.

“Is he armed?” she asked.

“A knife and two pistols, but he came alone.”

Perhaps he had listened.

Clayton shifted behind her. “I will speak to him, but there’s no need for Olivia to endure him again.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell the baron I’ll see him now. And tell Miss Swift she’d better come so I don’t put a bullet between his eyes.’ I

think he must love her with all his entire heart, which is admittedly only the size of as a fig, but—”

“Tell him we will join him in twenty minutes,” Olivia said. She placed a regretful kiss on the crook of Clayton’s elbow, her tongue

flicking out along the crease of soft skin.

He wiped a finger over her cheek, lifting his finger to reveal a smudge of purple jam. He grinned. “How fast can you get dressed?”

“Eight minutes.”

He lowered his mouth to her right shoulder, nipping his way down it. “Then we don’t have to get out of bed for twelve.”

Twenty minutes later, Ian met them as they walked to the library. He scowled. “Sometimes I regret being all-knowing.”

Olivia’s cheeks heated, but Clayton returned Ian’s glare. “That knowledge had better be theoretical.”

Ian lifted a brow. “No skulking this time, I swear.” His face grew serious. “Kate, Blin, and I have already been busy this morning. Try

not to act surprised at anything Golov says.”

When they entered, Golov looked even more emaciated than the last time they’d talked. She really needed to tell him to eat more.

“Here to give me thanks for delivering Arshun to you?” Ian asked as he pulled a piece of toast from his pocket. “I tied an especially

nice bow on him just for you.”