Before they were done, she’d call him Brock without thinking about it. "Just who is seducing whom in this scene, madam?"
She smiled, her eyes sparkling. He hadn’t expected this impish humor either. "I caught you in my trap."
"That you have." Many a true word was spoken in jest. "I’m not sure I’ve ever been called perfect before."
That fugitive pink heated her cheeks again. He’d never before found himself so enchanted by the sheer wealth of detail he discovered in a woman.
"Let’s not go too far. I’m not saying you’re perfect for anything except my purposes. But it’s your sins that make you the ideal candidate to share my bed."
"You want to conquer the rake?" He couldn’t contain the cynicism edging the question. And a hint of disappointment. He knew that many women pursued him to discover what all the fuss was about. He hadn’t put Selina Martin in that category.
"I’ve given myself to only one man, and he didn’t satisfy me. I can’t imagine that Cecil will be much better. If I’m to kick over the traces just once in my life, I want it to be with a man who knows what he’s doing. I’ve had enough clumsy fumbling."
He winced at her frank description. What a crying shame that this glorious creature had never found a lover to match her.
Until now.
She went on. "I don’t want a man who asks more of me than I can give. I don’t want someone who sees this as a love affair and who will be hurt or jealous when I leave him to marry Cecil. The rakish Lord Bruard won’t start imagining that what we do together is any more significant than two adults who fancy each other deciding to spend a week together."
Brock was piqued, despite her pragmatism mirroring the usual arrangement he offered a lover. But in the past, the declaration of noninvolvement came from him, not from his partner in pleasure.
He should appreciate Selina’s candor. Ridiculous, but he didn’t. In fact this revelation that Selina felt nothing but an itch she’d like to scratch left him feeling…hurt.
Hurt was another reaction outside his ken. Again, some instinct warned him that this quiet widow posed a risk to the man he’d always been.
His voice was sharp as he responded. "I hope this will be more than a fleshly transaction. I hope we can share respect and friendship."
She went back to looking startled. "Do you?"
"Don’t you?"
She regarded him as if she’d cracked open a chicken egg and a baby unicorn had popped out onto her breakfast plate. "I assumed you’d be so inured to temporary liaisons, you wouldn’t seek an…emotional connection."
So had he.
"Damn it, Selina, I like you." With an irritated exhalation, he ran his hand through his hair. Although he suspected he was more annoyed with himself than with her. "I want you, of course I do, but I feel more for you than the simple urge to fuck you. I hoped you might like me, too."
For pity’s sake, he started to sound like a needy boy, and he hadn’t needed anyone since he’d realized the world offered him a cornucopia of pleasure and no deeper connections at all.
Her pause before she answered irked him more than it should. "I don’t know you."
He lowered his arm from the back of the settle and clenched his hand on his thigh. "You know me well enough to offer me your body."
She frowned at him. "You could make a nun swoon with yearning. Do I need to like you? I want you, too."
Her bald declaration of desire crashed through him like a blow. But while that had always been enough from his other lovers, from Selina Martin, he wanted more. "Do you really
only see me as a walking cock?"
The pink in her cheeks deepened, but she didn’t look away. "It would be best if you were." Her hands spread in bewilderment. "Are you…are you considering changing your mind?"
Not on his life. "Are you?"
"No." Although she didn’t sound certain. "I’m sorry I misjudged you. I only had the gossip to go on, you see."
"Gossip says if it moves, I’ll fuck it."
"You…you’re very frank."