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times had he thought about those ruby lips? Fantasized about them? Of sliding his cock between them into the wet warmth of her mouth. In five years, he hadn’t been able to forget those lips or the delicious kiss that awoke him that night.
    Taking advantage of her unbalanced state, he clasped her hand in his and stalked toward her rooms with her in tow.
    “Madame! Madame . . . wh-what should I do?” the servant called out.
    “If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream,” Catherine threatened.
    “Go ahead.” He reached her door, wrenched it open, and pulled her inside.
    “Madame . . . ?”
    “It’s all right, Odette. I’ll take care of this,” she said, just before he shut the door. He’d called her on her bluff. She wasn’t about to scream. Or make a scene. If she wasn’t scheming, she was lying to him.
    She was always playing games.
    Well, he had a game for her. One that would overwhelm her senses, break down her resistance. Only, he wasn’t going to resort to drugging her—as she had him. But he was going to take control—a control she’d snatched from him that night.
    His game was one he’d mastered a long time ago—seduction.
    She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
    He stepped closer. She stepped back into the door. A crack in her façade.
    “I want you to scream,” he reiterated, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’m going to make you come, and I want to hear you scream out your pleasure.”

4

    “Pardon?” The word rushed out on a breath, Catherine’s bravado vanishing. In its place was stunned disbelief, and—Adrien was certain—a quiver of excitement.
    He was wrong. There was something honest about her. Sexual arousal. She was naturally sensuous. Made for passion.
    She craved it—beneath the veneer of propriety.
    So why was her experience so limited? She’d been married, and as beautiful as she was, she could easily have her choice of lovers. Then there was Philbert de Baillet. Hadn’t he sampled any premarital delights? Marriage was the last thing on Adrien’s mind, but if he were betrothed to a woman like Catherine, he would have bedded her long before the exchanging of the vows.
    Adrien snaked his arm around Catherine’s waist and pulled her to him tightly. Ignoring her gasp, he threaded his fingers in her soft hair, resting his palm on the nape of her neck. His fever for her spiked the moment their bodies touched. His cock pressing against her belly was already pulsing painfully. What was it about this woman? She scintillated his senses with no effort at all.
    “You asked what I wanted, Catherine. I want to have another go at you, without any aphrodisiacs involved. But first and foremost, I want your mouth.”
    He swooped in for a kiss, her jasmine-scented skin inebriating him. She fisted the material of his knee-length coat against his back but, thank God, didn’t push him away. Instead, she made tiny sounds at the back of her throat each time he locked and relocked their mouths.
    Her breathing was already erratic, inciting his own. Yet by the slight stiffness in her body, he knew she warred with her desire, wanting to stop him as much as she wanted him to continue. He forced himself to slow down. To concentrate on her responses, keeping her enthralled so that she didn’t pull away from him.
    Adrien brushed his tongue against her lips, coaxing them apart, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, penetrating it, possessing it the moment she complied with his sensual demand. He celebrated in her surrender. She tasted delicious. Even better than he remembered.
    Her soft form melted against his body, dragging a groan up his throat. Dieu , he wanted her.
    The moment he felt her hands relax and flatten against his back, he cupped her breast and grazed his thumb over the hardened nipple. She rewarded him with a sultry moan. Pinching the pebbled tip through her clothing, he had her writhing and arching hard against him.
    Catherine’s hands shot up his back and tangled in his hair, her