Worth Any Price by Lisa Kleypas Page B

that,” she said shakily.
    But nothing would stop him now. He caressed her skillfully, circling the point of delicate fire. Her buttocks lifted away from the hard length of his erection as her hips strained toward his hand. He brushed the swollen bud with the calloused tip of his thumb and slid his middle finger inside her, until it was completely submerged in the luscious channel.
    Lottie’s breath shortened, and her thighs clamped around his hand as he thrust and withdrew his finger in an easy rhythm. He felt her inner muscles tauten as she labored and twisted, fighting instinctively for release from the excruciating tension. Nick lowered his head to her breasts once more. The tips were taut and rosy now, and he blew against one of them softly before drawing it into his mouth. With his finger sunk inside her, and her nipple throbbing against his tongue, he experienced a triumph he had never known before.
    Lottie struggled helplessly as climax remained elusive, a moan of frustration escaping her. Withdrawing his finger from the sweet depths of her body, Nick settled his damp hand on her taut stomach, rubbing in soothing circles. “I’ll take care of you later,” he murmured. “I promise.”
    Lottie moaned again, arching desperately against his hand. He knew what she wanted, and he longed to give it to her. His nostrils flared as he detected the heady perfume of female desire. Heat pumpedthrough him, and he nearly lost all self-control as he thought of burying his face between her thighs, plunging his tongue inside her…
    He shuddered as he forced himself to pull her skirts down, covering the sweet flesh he craved. Westcliff was waiting nearby, and now was not the time or place to indulge himself further. Later there would be time to make love to Lottie at his leisure. Patience , he counseled himself, taking a few steadying breaths.
    Lottie crawled from his arms and huddled at the opposite end of the settee. She was gorgeously tousled, her cheeks dewy and deeply flushed in the flickering light. Fumbling with her bodice, she covered her breasts.
    Their gazes met, hers bright with shame, his frankly calculating. And then Nick went in for the kill. “I do want you,” he said. “In fact, I would probably stoop at nothing to get you. But I don’t want you as a mistress. I want full, irrevocable ownership. Everything that you would have given to Radnor, or Westcliff.”
    Realizing what he meant, Lottie stared at him as if he were a lunatic. It took a full half-minute for her to recover enough to speak. “Do you mean marriage? What difference would there be between marrying you or Lord Radnor?”
    “The difference is that I’m letting you choose.”
    “Why would you be willing to shackle yourself to me for a lifetime?”
    The truth was something that Nick could neveradmit to her. “Because I want the convenience of a wife,” he lied. “And you’ll do as well as any other woman.”
    She sucked in a breath of outrage.
    “Make your choice,” Nick advised. “You can keep running, or you can become someone’s wife. Mine or Radnor’s.”
    She gave him another one of those long, searching stares that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Damn, he hated it when she did that. Once again he could not blink or look away, and she appeared to read his thoughts in spite of his will to conceal them.
    “Yours,” she said stiffly. “I’ll be yours.”
    And he let out a slow, nearly imperceptible sigh of relief.
     
    Lottie struggled from his lap and straightened her clothes. She went to pour herself some brandy from the crystal decanter at the mahogany sideboard. She was dizzy, and her knees felt like jelly, which were good indications that more spirits were the last thing she needed. Moreover, she was still technically Lord Westcliff’s servant, and no one in such a position would ever think of helping herself to some of the master’s liquor. On the other hand, such distinctions had become blurred after the