Chapter Nine

T his was a mistake. A grave, irrevocable, sinful mistake.

And it was hers to make. Her secret to keep. Her pleasure to remember for a lifetime.

If her reputation was ruined by striking a deal with an aristocrat, by selling herself in a mere business transaction, then she was glad it was this handsome duke bestowing her with the most bone-melting kisses, keener than in her wildest imagination.

He stood naked before her. Chiseled perfection, sculpted to the last detail. Every muscle and sinew carved with precision. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, his torso a harmonious blend of strength and grace. Each ripple of his abdomen was clearly defined, and yet, for all his strength, he had an elegance, a balance that spoke of careful control and measured power.

She gave him power over her heart.

But it was his face that truly captivated Lola—the strong jawline, high cheekbones, straight nose—every detail perfectly proportioned. His green eyes glowed with a palpable heat as if a fire had been lit within him, the flames dancing in his irises, reflecting his desire. She melted under his gaze, lost in the molten depths of his eyes.

And melt she did when he climbed atop her. He kissed a path upward from her thigh over her hip bone, her navel, and up to her ribs until his hands cupped her breasts.

"You're shivering," he whispered. "Are you cold?"

She nodded, for she broke out in goosebumps and had no other words for how she felt. Without him, she'd forever be cold, no matter how stifling the temperature.

He tugged at the hem of the black lace, then again. He tore the fabric right in the middle, unwrapping her impatiently like a present he'd waited for all his life.

His hands were hot on her cool skin. Raindrops chased each other down the windows of her little room in the attic, pattering against the glass and the thin roof shielding her from the heavens above.

But she was on top of the world, spiraling with pleasure she'd never felt before.