Succumb to Me (9 page)

His eyes lit, and he interrupted her, “What
do you propose, Miss Stevens?”

Winter felt a blush suffuse her cheeks, then
rush away again, leaving her weak kneed. “I-I’m not sure what you
mean. I meant only that I have limited funds at my disposal.”

She knew exactly what he meant, hinted at so
bluntly. She was not a complete fool. He had told her very plainly
that he would accept her body as payment.

“As I thought. The years have been unkind to
you.”

His expression as he spoke was surprisingly
tender. He reached up to cup her cheek, but she drew back before he
could touch her. The tenderness was unexpected—she could almost
believe he felt pity for her, but knew better by now than to
believe anything but the worst of him.

He dropped his hand, his face hardening, his
fist clenching by his side. With an effort he regained his careless
facade. “As it happens, I would not consider any price … in coin
for such a piece. There is only one thing you could give
me....”

Logan allowed his gaze to roam her length
suggestively. Like a merchant examining the wares, he studied her
face, the slender column of her throat, the rounded tops of her
breasts, her narrow waist.

Winter felt her pulse quicken with awareness,
felt her heart beating hard in her chest even as her breath caught
in her throat. She realized suddenly that she had completely
underestimated him once again. He had suggested she allow him to
bed her, but always in a manner that had allowed her to persuade
herself that he was not completely serious, that he was only
tormenting her to watch her squirm, that he would not go so far as
to seriously suggest she give herself to him. Regardless, she
thought she had made it plain that she was unwilling to bed him and
ruin herself.

He met her eyes once again, his look heated.
“Submit to me, Winter. In every way I demand.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“No.” Winter shook her head, closed her eyes.
He’d narrowed her options down to this one choice, and it was
impossible for her to fulfill with any dignity. “Why would you do
this? I have done nothing so terrible as to warrant what you ask of
me.”

He’d hated
The
Ton
in England, so much so he’d turned his back on his
homeland ... and his father. He’d wanted to succeed on his own
merits,
earn
respect, not have
it handed to him on a silver platter. When Winter had cut him at
that party, it was as if all the sacrifices he’d made had been for
naught. That blessed time from before, when she had shown kindness
and empathy for a fellow human being, had been erased as if it had
never been. Even in America—land of the free—status and position
were everything.

He swallowed down his hatred of her
from that time. She would
never
understand him—He had been wrong. She was like all the rest.
Nothing had any value to her beyond her status and reputation, and
like everyone else in ‘high’ society, she expected her desires to
be of utmost concern to everyone … and served up to her on a silver
platter with no effort on her part to achieve them.

The little game he’d planned would do nothing
to melt the ice at her core that surrounded her heart, because she
did not have one. The only purpose it would serve would be to
satisfy his need to see her brought down from her pedestal ...
would satisfy the need that had been burning inside him for six
long, agonizing years.

The disappointment was crushing, the pain
almost more than he could bear. He hadn’t realized until this
moment how desperately he had wanted to believe that he could win
her heart if only he could force her to give him a chance. Without
that, there would be no true victory.

He swallowed his disappointment, allowed his
anger to lead him, realizing that he was determined to take the
victory he could.

“You need not know my reasons, Winter.
Suffice it to say, this is the price you will pay to hide your
dirty secret and protect your precious reputation. You must choose
between your virtue and your reputation.”

“And how am I to know I will not lose
both?”

“My word?”

She laughed coldly. “And you’ve demonstrated
your honor so many times.”

“I guarantee should you agree, I would be
satisfied by your sacrifice. With none the wiser of what has
happened between us.”

“You ask too much. I ... hate ... you,” she
whispered. She couldn’t help but wonder if her attempts at stealing
the painting had given him this idea. He’d been so eager to take
her then....

“Do you? Hate is a strong emotion, a fire
that burns in your soul. Do you truly hate me?”

Logan ran a finger up her bare arm. His touch
raised goosebumps in its wake.

“I hate what you are doing to me.” Heat
flared over her skin, delicious, tingling. No man had ever dared
touch her as Logan did. She hated him for causing her to respond
when her mind screamed against it. She knew such desires were wrong
between her and any man other than a husband. Her father must be
rolling over in his grave.

He looked interested. “What am I doing to
you?”

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes and
shaking her head. “You are making me feel things I should not.”

“And that is unforgivable,” he whispered
hoarsely, feeling his cock harden with painful intensity at her
admission. He wanted to crush her against him, until her last
defense crumbled and she welcomed his embrace. But, more than that,
he wanted to tease her until she begged him to do what he wanted
with her. “You can earn your painting back, Winter. Wouldn’t you
like to earn something, for once in your life?”

Winter trembled, ignoring the pleasurable
shivers whispering over her skin as he continued to stroke her arm
in a leisurely way.

The offer tempted her. God knew it did. She
could admit that much to herself, at least. When he’d caught her in
his bedroom, mounted her, something had broken inside that she
couldn’t fix. He’d unleashed feelings inside her long ago, awakened
them again in that moment to build with every moment that passed in
his presence.

The thought of obeying his demands in every
way sent a rush of liquid heat to flood between her legs, made her
womb ache with need she’d been forbidden to feel. She’d fallen
somehow, into temptation—a dark wanting only he could free her
from. If she’d been the lady she once was, she would have slapped
him. As it was, it took every ounce of strength she possessed not
to give in to her traitorous thoughts. Winter shook, opened her
eyes to look on him once more. “You would have me become a
whore.”

He rose from the desk, moved around behind
her, leaning close to smell her hair, and skated the palm of his
hand gently across her nape. The tender skin came alive under the
brief caress, tingled where he touched her, as though his fingers
vibrated with untapped energy. “It need not come to that. Whore is
such a harsh word. High born women are considered mistresses,” he
whispered against her ear, his hot breath teasing her neck,
producing deep shivers inside her.

“Do I have your promise? Your oath that no
one will find out what we have done? This is for naught if my
reputation lies in ruins.” She faced him, discovered his mouth mere
inches from her own, his lips curled in a sultry smile. He was too
close, but he wouldn’t allow her escape. Not yet.

“Upon my honor, such as it is. I do not wish
to give the gossipmongers something to talk about.” He
straightened, distancing himself until she could breathe again.

Relief flooded her. “You’ll never have my
heart,” she said with confidence.

She had to come out of this game ahead. To
give herself to him completely would mean complete disgrace, and
she couldn’t allow that to happen, no matter how much she might
secretly long for his possession. It was folly even to consider his
outrageous proposal, let alone give in to it, but she had no other
choice. He’d backed her into a corner. She could fight him, but
then she would lose. This was the only way she could win. And she
had no doubts who would be the victor.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.” At
her glare, he grinned darkly and said, “Now, our bargain. You must
promise to come to me, to submit to my demands for ... two weeks.
Afterwards, I will relinquish the painting to you and you need
never see me again. But, keep in mind that I will expect you to
stand by our bargain. Whatever I ask of you—anything I ask, you
will perform willingly.”

It was the same length of time the papers had
twittered about his public set down. Any doubts she’d entertained
about the clarity of his memory were banished. He hadn’t forgotten
anything. She nodded, cautious, regretting the course taken
already. “I agree.”

“Good. Now we will prove your sincerity.”

Her heart stopped at the look he gave her ...
devouring, eager for the game to begin. “Now? We cannot, my mother
awaits and she will worry,” Winter said, suddenly breathless.

She backed toward the door, toward freedom,
unwilling to take her eyes off him long enough to run. The
seriousness of her situation hadn’t quite caught up to her until
now. She hadn’t had time to accept her new position with him, and
her new reality hadn’t positioned itself in her mind.

She was alone with him—he could do anything
he wanted, and she would be powerless to stop him. Only a thin
shred of honor stood in his way, and how much could she trust its
stretched limits when he’d been the one to force her into this
arrangement?

He advanced on her, blocked her evasion when
she would have darted away, backed her up until she was pressed
firmly against the door and he’d crowded out all chance at flight.
He propped his arms against the door on either side of her head and
leaned forward, caging her. “She can wait a moment longer. ‘Tis
just a simple test....”

A corner of his mouth hitched higher as he
studied her ... her dishabille ... her breathlessness ... and a
sardonic black brow raised in amusement at her agitation.

“I do not think it wise....” She avoided his
mouth as he bent toward her, turning her face away. He stopped
before touching her cheek, smelled her flushed skin before pulling
back to regard her.

“So … no honor among thieves? We have only
just agreed and already you renege on your promise. The agreement
was—willingly—otherwise we have no agreement and I summon a servant
to hang the painting in my gallery for all to see tonight at the
party.”

She sighed, recognizing defeat and hating him
for it. “What would you have of me?” she said softly, afraid of the
answer.

“Wet your lips.” His hungry gaze settled on
her mouth. Her sex spasmed with pleasure at his look. Her thighs
clenched against the unbidden feeling. An ache built low in her
belly, deliciously forbidden.

Slowly, self-conscious, she timidly flicked
her tongue out to touch her bottom lip. His eyes darkened with
lust. His reaction to the simple gesture was intoxicating.

“More,” he demanded, his voice roughened with
need. “I want you hot and wet when I enter you.”

Winter nearly moaned at his hoarse command,
felt her thighs slicken with the images he conjured. Her sex pulsed
with desire, and he had not even touched her. Breathing raggedly,
she obeyed, running her tongue over the sensitive skin.

It seemed his undoing. With a hoarse groan,
he bent toward her, pressing her roughly into the door with his
hard body as he claimed her lips in a ravenous kiss.

She didn’t know why, but she had expected
something more gentlemanly, more circumspect. A jolt of shock went
through her as his mouth covered hers, hungry, demanding. She felt
as if she was melting under the scorching heat of his mouth, with
the press of his iron chest against her soft, aching breasts. Her
nipples hardened to tight buds that throbbed unbearably.

Logan tugged at her bottom lip, sucking and
teasing the tender flesh, his mouth tasting her like she was a rare
delicacy. She felt as though he would devour her, one sense at the
time. And she thrilled at the prospect, hate burning away with his
kiss. He drew his arms around her and crushed her body to his ...
so close ... but not nearly enough.

She needed—wanted—more. Lost to thought, all
awareness save her awareness of his mouth, she clung to him, her
body begging when her words could not. He pushed her higher against
the door, wedging a hard thigh between her legs for support, moving
the rigid muscles across the center of her sex in shocking
precision. A sudden wave of pleasure rocked her core. She gasped
against his mouth and he plunged his tongue inside with a liquid
glide.

Guided by instinct, she closed her mouth
around his tongue, sucking, enjoying its rough texture, the taste
of whiskey and his own wildness, moving her hands over his broad
shoulders. The need to touch him everywhere was near unbearable,
and her hands crept down his back, hovering at his waistline. He
groaned in response to her awkward caress and pressed closer to
her, hiking her skirts up with one hand.