Exposed: Misbehaving with the Magnate (14 page)

What would
she
give in order to be with this man?

She closed the distance between them, stopping only when they shared the same shadow, when all she need do to touch him was sway a little closer. ‘Always so still,’ she murmured. ‘So very careful around me.’ She spoke the words she’d spoken seven years ago, speaking them boldly, speaking them true. ‘They tell me you’re a danger to me.’

‘I am.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of what I want,’ he said huskily. New words to replace the silence that had once been his only answer. ‘Because of what I would give in return.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Everything.’

‘And what would you give for it?’

‘Anything.’

‘Some might call that obsession.’

‘It is.’

‘Some would call it possession.’

‘It is.’

‘Some might even be scared of such a love. Such an all-consuming, crazy kind of love. But not me.’ She walked around him in a slow circle, staying close, trailing her fingertips up and over the broad expanse of his shoulder, the base of his neck, more shoulder, and then finally his heart. If seduction was war she commanded a conquering army. If seduction was a duel her blade would have drawn first blood. But this wasn’t seduction. It was truth. ‘I want what you have to offer. All of it.’

‘The deed to Hammerschmidt,’ he said huskily. ‘It’s yours.’

‘Rafe warned me you’d say that,’ she murmured and set her lips to the strong cord of his neck. Lightly. Lovingly. Such a still and waiting night. The heavy expectant stillness that came before an almighty storm. What would she bargain? And what would he give? She pulled back to study him, her breath catching at the raw magnificence of this man in the flickering light of a hundred candles. ‘I propose a partnership. A new company. Something sticky and entwined. Something that’s not yours or mine. Something that’s ours.’

‘I accept,’ he said.

‘You mentioned marriage,’ she whispered, bringing her fingertips up to trace the perfect curve of his lips. He did not reach for her, though he shuddered hard. So much control in this man, such perfect control. ‘And I had to think hard about that. I worried what others would think. I wasn’t sure I was worthy of you or of the Duvalier name and all that came with it. And then it occurred to me that you didn’t care what others might think and neither should I. All that mattered was whether I loved you. And I do.’

‘Marry me,’ he said.

‘I accept,’ she replied with a smile Luc would doubtless learn to be wary of. ‘There is…one more thing. All that formidable control when I’m naked in your arms. All that careful restraint when I’m burning up inside for love of you,’ she said delicately as she traced a path from his chest to the formidable bulge in his trousers. ‘It has to go.’

An unholy light crept into his eyes, a wild and challenging hunger that called to her and always had. ‘Then make it go,’ he said.

She started with the buttons on his shirt, slowly easing them from their holes. Then she began in on his belt and his trousers until they too sat loosely in place. His shirt came off and dropped to the ground. She left his trousers where they were. For now.

‘It would help if you kissed me,’ he murmured.

She expected hunger from him. She craved the dark edge of need he brought to their lovemaking. But the kiss he shared with her was different again. Better again, as he showed her his soul, a soul filled with
such purity and sweetness that she prayed his kiss would never end.

‘I love you,’ he murmured as his hands went to the pins in her hair. There were only a few of them, carefully placed, and moments later her hair tumbled down for him in waves. He stroked it with his knuckles, threaded it through open fingers and finally, finally his eyes grew black with desire as he wound it round his hand and made a fist. This time the sweetness in his kisses gave way to a fierce and uncontrollable need. ‘I’ll never hurt you,’ he muttered.

‘I know.’ Night, the household staff had always called him, because of the shadows on his soul and the fierceness of his passions, but he was
her
night and always would be. She did not fear his hunger, and never had. ‘This time you ride the storm with me,’ she whispered as she slid her hands in his hair and dragged his lips closer. ‘I’ll be your lighthouse.’ She touched her tongue to the side of his mouth, darkly pleased when a groan escaped him and he trapped her within the circle of his arms. ‘I’ll be your guide, and you need to trust me.’

‘I do trust you.’ If seduction was a war, Luc’s kisses reminded her that even if she did have a conquering army at her back, this man commanded the skies. She wanted him naked. She wanted him wild.

‘Surrender to me,’ she whispered as she called up the storm. And he did.