Temptation & Twilight Read Free Page A

quite certain you will agree you are.”
    “Oh.” She eyed him with a glittering glance that told him she was pretending not to know the true meaning of the word. How he loathed the game of playing innocent when she was so far from it. “Tell me, how does ‘biter’
    play into the description of a wanton?” She wanted to be shocked, and he was in the right frame of mind to appease her. “A biter, sweet Georgiana, means that said wanton is so eager for sexual congress that she will offer herself, bottom up, to her lover. A man calls her thus when he knows she’s aching for a little slap and bite on her arse, hence the term.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012
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    TEMPTATION & TWILIGHT
    “Cunny, too?”
    His lips curled in distaste, but he hoped she would see it for something far more appealing. “By all means, if you wish to have your cunny bitten, I shall be happy to oblige.”
    Thankfully, Sutherland had departed before the conversation turned to this. Even he had some personal level of decency, and this crossed the boundary.
    “How I adore it when you speak filth, Lord Alynwick.” He gave her a mocking bow. “I aim to please you, my lady.”
    “You do. Surely you know that.” He did. Who would ever see to his own pleasure was another matter entirely.
    Now alone together, Georgiana smoothed her hand down her body, her thighs spreading in invitation as her pale hand slid between them. She was as insatiable as he was. Any man looking for a mistress would find her ravishing—would likely even empty the family coffers for her. But Iain was not looking for a mistress, and her avarice made him feel empty and cold.
    “Tell me your fantasies,” she whispered. “I’ve told you mine.”
    “As I’ve said, I have none.”
    “Please?” she purred.
    “Shall I make one up to appease you, then?” She pouted, and her sharp, glittering eyes told him she knew that he had one. “Someone to spank and punish you?”
    He winced. “Good God, no. I’m not one for pain with pleasure.” He’d had enough pain inflicted on him by both sides of his family, and while away at school.
    “To be tied up, to give up all your control?”
    “No.”
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    CHARLOTTE FEATHERSTONE
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    She eyed him thoughtfully. She would never guess what the Sinful Sinclair, the Aberrant Alynwick thought of when he was alone at night in his bed, with nothing but the moon and stars to keep him company. He hardly allowed himself to think of it. Only when he was deep in his cups, and his feelings unguarded, did he allow himself to dream of his ultimate fantasy—a saint with a sinner. An angel cavorting with the devil. An innocent offering herself up to him—a sordid, sinful man who wanted to partake of her goodness, while showing her how delightful it could be to join him on the dark side of seduction. But not just any innocent. No, that would be too easy. There were numerous virgins in London. He could seduce any one of them, and live out his fantasies.
    No, only one innocent—in mind and soul, in deed and thought—would do for him.
    And damn her, how her guileless eyes and goodness rattled him. He’d walk through the Moroccan desert for her, would bleed himself dry for one chance to taste her lips, feel her breasts in his hands, pressing against his flesh.
    But good girls did not like bad boys. Good girls gave wide berth to men who indulged in the sort of behaviour that governesses warned them about and etiquette books forbade.
    Ladies like her did not allow men like him to partake of their innocence, while corrupting them with sin. And the woman of his dreams was every inch a lady by birth and character, and she called to him like gin to an East End drunk.
    “You are in a strange mood tonight, Sinclair,” Georgiana observed. “Almost contemplative, I would say.”
    “Really? How droll. I suppose I should be