A Rogues Proposal

"Dammit, woman-you're supposed to be i

Her warm chuckle was the very opposite. "I gave you my i

"How could I forget? Every damned minute of that night is engraved on my brain."

She gri

"If an etching can convey sensations as well, then yes." The memories had warmed him, tortured him, for weeks.

Her grin widened. "In that case, you must recall that I'm not a sweet i

Demon stared into her lovely face-he couldn't think.

She dropped her gaze to his lips. "If you won't stay with me here, I'll come back to your lodgings."

"No."

"I'll follow you-you can't stop me." Her lips curved; she met his eyes. "I want to see your etchings."

Demon looked down into eyes so blatantly full of love he wondered how he could have doubted her answer. She loved him, and always had, regardless of whether he loved her. But he did love her-desperately. Which meant they'd marry soon. Why was he holding her away?

He blinked. The next instant, he released her hands, wrapped his arms about her, and pulled her hard against him. "God, you are so stubborn!"

He kissed her-powerfully, passionately, deliberately letting the reins go-feeling her tug them from his grasp and fling them aside.

At some point in the subsequent heated exchange, they surfaced long enough to turn the corner of the gallery and find the door to her room. Once inside, he leaned back against the door-and let her have her way with him. It was a new experience, and oddly precious-to have a woman so wantonly, ravenously, set on ravishing him.

He reveled in it, in the hot kisses she pressed on him, in the greedy clutch of her fingers on his naked chest. She'd wrecked his cravat, crushed his coat and waistcoat-his shirt had lost buttons. When she hummed in her throat and reached for his waistband, he summoned enough strength to back her to the bed. "Not yet." Catching her hands, he stayed her. "I want to see you first."

Despite having had her more than once, he hadn't, yet, had a chance to sate his senses as he wished, and view her totally naked. He wanted that-and he wanted it now.

She blinked as he sat on the bed and drew her to stand between his thighs. "See me?"

"Hmm." He didn't elaborate-she'd catch on soon enough. At The Angel, he'd seen her naked back, but not her naked front-not in any degree of light. Her male attire made undressing her easy-he had her clad only in a whisper-fine chemise in less than a minute.

By then her eyes were round.

He stood. She stepped back, swiftly sca

Then he sat on the bed again, thighs wide. She turned to look at him, then shyly smiled. All but swaying with the force, the steady pounding, of desire, he went to move-to reach out and draw her to him-

She moved first.

With that same, shy smile on her lips, she grasped the hem of her chemise, and slowly drew it off over her head.

His chest locked-if his life had depended on not looking at her-not visually devouring her-he'd have died.

He wasn't sure he hadn't-he couldn't breathe, couldn't think-he certainly couldn't move. Every muscle had seized, poised, ready… It took enormous effort to drag in a breath, to drag his gaze upward from the lithe sweeps of her thighs, from the golden nest of curls at their apex, over the smooth curve of her stomach, up over her waist-one he could span with his hands-to the swells of her breasts, high, pert, and tipped with rose.

Her nipples puckered as his gaze touched them; he felt his lips curve, and knew his smile was hungry.

He was ravenous-aching to have her, to haul her into his arms and possess her, sink his throbbing staff deep into her softness, to ride her into sweet oblivion.

She still held her chemise in one hand, but she didn't clutch it close, didn't try to hide from his hot gaze. She shivered, but let him look his fill; when his gaze reached her face, she met his eyes.

There was no mistaking her glow-it was invitation and known delight-it held a siren's allure, and the confidence of a woman well-loved.

If she ever looked at another man like that she would break his heart. The vulnerability washed over him-he acknowledged it, accepted it and let it pass. Reaching out, he took her chemise from her, let it fall to the floor, then curved his hand about her hip.

He urged her to him and she came-shy but not hesitant. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders; he slid his about her waist and held her, sensing the supple strength of her, then he looked up, trapped her gaze, and slid both palms down, over her hips, over the firm spheres of her bottom. He spread his fingers and cupped her, caressed her, kneaded gently-within seconds, her skin dewed and heated. Her pupils dilated, her lids half lowered; she caught her breath and tensed slightly.

Holding her gaze, refusing to let her break the contact, he left one hand evocatively fondling, tracing the smooth curves and hidden valleys, brushing the backs of her thighs. His other hand he placed palm flat on her belly. She sucked in a breath, and tensed even more. Ruthlessly holding her gaze, he slowly slid his hand up, brushing the sensitive underside of one breast with the backs of his fingers, then closing his hand about the firm mound.

She gasped softly; her lids fluttered, then fell. He smiled and kneaded, stroked and tweaked, all the time watching desire flow across her face. Her lips parted. Her tongue slipped out to moisten them; her breath came in little rushes, not yet pants, but with urgency building. Her lashes fluttered as she felt him learn her, explore her.

With a wolfish smile, he bent his head.

Her shocked gasp rang through the room. She clutched his head, fingers gripping tight as he rasped his tongue over the nipple he'd suckled, torturing it even more. She was soon panting in earnest, the sound sweetly evocative.

He drew back. Desire had flooded her, changing her skin from flawless ivory to rose. Sliding his hand down over her waist, he watched her face as he gently kneaded her taut belly, then reached lower, spearing his fingers through her soft curls, pressing into the soft flesh behind.

She was already wet, swollen and ready-he stroked, and she shuddered. And leaned against one thigh, caught his shoulder for balance.

Before he could blink, she hauled in a breath, opened her eyes, and reached for his buttons. Her nimble fingers slid them free; she reached in-

He closed his eyes and groaned.

She closed her hand and he shuddered. His hands fell from her; head bowed, hands fisted, he endured as she eased her hold and went searching, exploring.

He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to open his eyes-his lids still lifted, just enough so he could see her slender arm, wrist-deep in his open breeches, fine muscles flexing as she stroked and squeezed.

Then she reached deep.

The groan she ripped from him was one of real pain-he was achingly hard, throbbing fit to explode.

Her other hand pushed at his chest. "Lie back."

He did, falling flat on his back, chest heaving as he struggled for breath-control was far beyond him. Her hand left him-he cursed the loss of her touch.

"Just a minute."

In disbelief, he felt her tugging at his breeches. This was nothing like what he'd had pla

Only then did he recall she'd never seen what she'd so successfully accommodated four times thus far.