LadyClarissasSeduction Read Free Page B

meager possessions and
after her bath was readied, she had nothing more to do than allow herself the
pleasure of bathing in the rose-scented water. Naturally, it did not escape
Clarissa’s notice the east bedroom and indeed the bathroom in which she now
bathed appeared to belong to Pierce Foster himself. The adjoining chamber
smelled of him, a maddening hint of sandalwood and smoke, and the furniture and
bed hangings were heavy and dark.
    Her pulse quickened, a flutter beginning low in her belly to
think of it. She took up the cake of rose soap and began lathering on her arms.
So intent was she in her task she failed to hear the door open and close.
    “I see you’ve made yourself at home, princess.”
    A combination of alarm and welcome shot through her at the
familiar, deep voice. She turned in the tub, sloshing water upon the floor. Her
arms, still sudsy, went up to shield her breasts from his searching gaze. “Mr.
Foster!”
    He sketched an ironic bow. “At your service, Lady Clarissa.”
    “It is most improper for you to be present whilst I am
unclothed.” The proprieties remained ingrained within her, even if she was
about to make complete her fall from polite society.
    His eyes were, she noted, a most attractive and unusual
shade of cerulean. They swept down over her bare shoulders to where her crossed
arms attempted to hide her generous breasts. Her nipples throbbed, aching to be
sucked by his wicked mouth.
    “I’m afraid impropriety is the least of your concerns this
evening.”
    The words sent a frisson through her. “Precisely what are
your intentions, sir?”
    A smoldering grin curved his mouth. “The same they’ve been
since the moment I laid eyes on you. Dishonorable. Dreadfully,” he paused to
lean down and take up the soap she’d abandoned, “despicably and deliciously
dishonorable.”
    She watched, transfixed, as he dipped a strong hand into her
bath water and rubbed the cake of soap between his hands. The gesture itself
was an innocent one, but the intent marking his handsome face was anything but.
“I must beg you to be a gentleman.” To her own ears, her words were breathless
with anticipation. There was no denying it.
    Pierce Foster shook his head, his countenance becoming
almost rueful. “A gentleman I am not, princess. Do not fool yourself.” He
paused. “Turn round. I shall wash your hair.”
    Dare she allow it? She mustn’t. “I do not require your
assistance.”
    “I never claimed you did. Turn ‘round.”
    This time, his words were a command. She obeyed, turning in
the tub once more to present him her back. The pins had already been removed
from her long tresses, but she had piled it artlessly atop her head to keep it
out of her way. As he put his hands into the mass, curls fell around her
shoulders, slipping into the water. His touch was surprisingly gentle.
    “Lean your head back,” he ordered.
    She scooted forward in the tub and tipped her head toward
him, aware of his palm cupping the nape of her neck. Bit by bit, she sank low
into the water until only her face remained dry. Above her in the mellow
lighting of the room, his face hovered, drawing inexorably nearer until his
breath washed over her lips. He kissed her, the sensation newly erotic to
Clarissa. Although their mouths were upside down, they fit perfectly together.
His tongue traced her lower lip, delicately seeking, before plunging into her
mouth.
    Clarissa quite forgot the need to hide herself from him and
reached back with both arms, her wet hands going into the silky thickness of
his hair. He shocked her by cupping an aching breast in his free palm. The suds
of the rose soap worked into her hair, onto her skin, rising up from the warm
water to envelop her in a sensual cloud of sweet fragrance and moist heat.
    Unthinking in all but her need to be closer to him, she
whirled around in the bath, rising up from the water like Venus to press
herself against the fine fabric of his shirt. Their kiss continued,