Read Wicked in Your Arms for Free Online Page A

his soft lips grazing the side of her throat. Nor did it stop the shivers from racing along her skin.
    When she felt the light, erotic scrape of his teeth on her neck she yanked her head away and stared up at his shadowed face. His eyes gleamed in the dark, the only thing she could discern in the gloom, and yet she couldn’t read beyond their inscrutable depths. She couldn’t determine what they said, what he thought .
    She trembled in his arms like a leaf clinging to the last vine amid a storm. If he wasn’t holding her up, she would collapse. Was this what she had become? Was this what loneliness did to a female? Shattered her? Broke her? Made her cave at the first man who— No .
    She gave herself a mental shake. The Crown Prince of Maldania was no ordinary man. He didn’t look ordinary. He didn’t talk ordinary with that hypnotic voice of his. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop herself from reacting to him. Sad but true. She simply couldn’t allow herself to forget that he was an arrogant snob who considered himself her better.
    She felt a new touch then. His fingers brushed the side of her face. A caressing graze that sent a ripple of shock through her.
    His warm, brandy-laced breath fanned her lips, alerting her that his face had changed position. She swallowed a suddenly dry throat and held herself as still as stone. Not about to move and accidentally brush against the warm press of his body. He might begin to think she deliberately wanted to touch him. That she liked this . Liked him .
    Intolerable! She possessed more pride than that!
    After the way he talked about her that would just be . . . pathetic. Not to mention vastly inappropriate. Not that anything about this situation was appropriate, but she wouldn’t have him think she was a breeding cat so desperate for his attentions.
    She was no stranger to a man’s kisses. Indeed not. And she was not about to initiate such intimacy with such a cad as he—prince or not. No matter how he affected her, how she quivered at his touch in the small dark space they shared, no matter how he made her remember things best left forgotten. She was made of sterner stuff. She could resist the likes of him.
    Still . . . if he should kiss her at this moment, she questioned her ability to resist. In their dark sanctuary, she too well recalled the longing, the exhilaration, the belief that she was valuable enough that a man could look beyond the circumstances of her birth.
    She missed such feelings, even false as they had been. Desire and longing only brought pain and allowed one to believe in fairy tales. She’d find her retiring gentleman with his home in the country and she’d have safety. Peace and contentment and respectability. That would be enough. Everything she ever needed. No one would ever hurt her again.
    She held herself perfectly still, a seeming statue, cold and unfeeling. A ruse, of course. She was burning up on the inside as he touched her face, a blind man feeling her every feature. The slope of her cheek, the curve of the jaw she always thought a little too square. The mouth too full, especially the bottom lip.
    He moved, leaned in yet again. The barest graze at the corner of her lips told her he was there, touching her, toying with her, exploring her face. Imprisoned in the dark, it was almost hard to imagine that this prince did this. That the austere, cold-eyed boor was moved to even touch her.
    Unable to resist any longer, her face lifted. A treacherous yearning filled her, betraying her. This was it. She would permit a kiss.
    Only no kiss came.
    â€œThey’ve gone.” His voice fluttered over her skin, quiet and even. Unaffected. As though he were commenting on the weather.
    As his words sank in, she listened. Silence carried from the other side of the door. They both held still. Moments stretched as she verified what he said was true. She took measure of herself and the wholly unsuitable embrace