Chance of a Lifetime Read Free Page A

bottles, but I can’t seem to compute what’s there so I just say, “Whatever you’re having…please.”
    “Good choice…and do sit down.” He gestures like Renaissance courtier toward a free chair by the fire, and watches me as I make my way there; I’m terrified I’ll trip or something, despite the fact my heels aren’t high or spindly.
    I take my seat, and watch him mix my drink, swiftly combining clear spirit, ice, mixer and a sliver of lemon. He prepares the concoction perfectly, despite the fact that he’s studying me intently almost all the time.
    I’ve dressed carefully.
    Jeans are awkward to wriggle out of, especially if you’ve got a curvy bottom like mine, so I’ve chosen a soft, full summer skirt that almost sweeps the floor. A miniskirt would be too obvious, not ladylike, and as I’m here with an aristocrat, I’m compelled to make an effort to be worthy of him.
    On my top half I’ve got a little buttoned camisole, pink to match the skirt, and a light cotton cardigan over that, to keep out the chills. My shoes are low-heeled and quite pretty, and underneath I’m wearing my best and sexiest underwear.
    I aim to please….
    The marquis comes across and hands me my drink, then retreats to his own chair. There’s a moment of silence, tense for me, but apparently totally relaxed for him, and I snatch the opportunity to feast my eyes on his gorgeousness.
    He sits so elegantly, even though he’s totally at ease. Long legs out in front of him, booted feet crossed.
    Boots? Hell, yes! They do something visceral inside me. They make me shudder and my sex clench and seem to twist and flutter with their connotations of masterfulness. They’re old and soft and well polished and not all that tall, but all the same, I almost feel faint just looking at them.
    And I get mostly the same feeling from the rest of him.
    He’s got the most exquisite black silk shirt on, full of sleeve and so fluid it seems to float on his body. The collar’s fastened up for the moment, but I have the most intense urge to crawl on my hands and knees across the room and rip it open so I can kiss his throat and his chest and suck his nipples.
    And not just his nipples.
    His thick black hair is shiny with a fresh-washed satin sheen and his fine-boned face has the delicious gleam of a recent shave.
    Bless him, he’s made as much of an effort for me as I have for him. Another reason to worship and adore him.
    I take a mouthful of my drink. It is gin, as I mostly suspected, and it’s a strong one with very little tonic. The balsamic kick of the uncompromising spirit almost makes me cough, but I’m glad of its heat as the first hit settles in my stomach.
    “So…here we are,” the marquis says pleasantly, eyeing me over the rim of his own glass. As he takes a long swallow, his throat undulates, pale and sensuous.
    “Yes…er…here we are,” is all I can manage in reply. The gathering tension in my gut renders me all but speechless.
    “Have you been thinking about what happened here the other day?”
    I nod, dumbstruck now with intense lust. I don’t know whether I want him to spank me or fuck me…probably both. But I want whatever’s on offer as soon as I can get it.
    “So how do you feel about being spanked a little? Does that interest you?” His lips are sculpted but somehow also soft and sensual, and when they curve into a little smile, the way they are doing now, they make me want to wriggle and touch my sex to soothe its aching. So much for wearing my best knickers. They must already be saturated with juice, I’m so turned on.
    “I think we could enjoy ourselves together, you and I,” he continues. “I’m not offering eternal love and devotion, but we can share a little pleasure and perhaps expand your horizons in a way that doesn’t involve flying thousands of miles.”
    Those crazy notions caper around my mind again, taunting me with the prospect of what he isn’t offering rather than what he is.
    “Rose?”