The lust had faded from her eyes, leaving them narrowed against hurt.
"There will be no other man in your bed while I am there. And there will be no further flirtations. When the affair ends there will be no tears, no hysterics. This is purely physical. It is not love, it is not the start of love. It is only the natural end to a mutual attraction. Is that clear?"
Her mouth was tight with rage. "Is this the speech you give all your lovers?"
"It is."
Her head jerked back a tiny bit. "And how do those women react to this list of demands?"
"Some look at me as you are doing now . . ." Oh, she did not like that at all. Did not like being compared to nameless, faceless women. "And some seem cowed. But they all agree."
"Arrogant coward. Are you really so afraid?"
He shrugged and took a sip of wine. "I prefer to be in control."
"Oh, but not always." Her eyes drifted down his naked chest to rest on his lap.
Hart was quite happy with the anger that raged back to full strength at her words. "I am in control now, Emma, and that should be all that concerns you. Remove the rest of your clothing."
"You insult me."
"Ha. You may pretend at your outrage, but you have wanted this from the moment we met. Almost as much as I have."
Her jaw jumped at his words. "I did not want this!'
The last of the wine quenched his dry throat, but it did nothing for the angry want that was stretching his skin tight as a drum. He only felt angrier when he tipped the glass down and met her gaze.
"You came here knowing I was a man on a razor's edge. You knew I was half drunk and damn near violent, and y
ou came to me. You may not want this, Emma, but you need it.
"And I. . ." He smiled, smiled until her eyes fluttered with nervousness. "I am pushed too far. Everyone in the world is talking about me right now, my sweet. Laughing at me. Discussing me, my life, my stupid, lustful, unwise heart. They are looking at me, Emma. And I will damn well have tonight even if I never deign to speak your name again."
He let his rage free with one wide sweep of his hand and the fragile crystal shattered in a musical crash against the door.
Emma backed up one step.
Hart rolled his shoulders and willed his boiling blood back to a simmer. "Now. Let's start with the corset, shall we?"
Chapter 17
The corset was squeezing her, pressing her lungs too tight. She couldn't draw more than quick, useless gasps of air that did nothing to help her find reason. Instead, every shallow breath sent little bits of sparkling pleasure to her sex.
She was afraid, afraid of Hart, and that only made her body throb with more intensity. Between her fear and that arousal, Emma couldn't think what to do. So she turned, and Hart began to work on the tight lacing that held her in.
As soon as she felt the ties loosen, Emma reached to free the hooks. Suddenly, she could breathe. Blood seemed to fill with life and rush to every nook of her body. Emma had expected to feel relief, but there was no ease in those breaths. Instead, an urgency overtook her.
The final hook gave, and she let the corset drop to the floor.
"Now the shift," Hart murmured, and Emma drew it over her head, thinking of him staring at her naked backside, knowing how much he would like that.
"The shoes," he said. "The stockings."
She could not fathom how he knew her so well. Was it simple recognition on his part, like knowing like? Or was it etched on her skin, a terrible heritage writ in subtle code that Hart had seen from the start? Or was it possible that every woman wanted this?
Rolling down her last stocking, Emma reveled in the thought of how exposed she was for his eyes. When she turned and found that Hart had undressed as well, the sight of him seized her heart. His body was lean and tightly muscled, his cock thick and rock hard. He would be inside her soon, and she felt she had waited her whole life for that.
His voice slashed like a sword. "Lie on your stomach."