Sin. Sharon PageЧитать онлайн книгу.
She broke off. She had just said ‘naked’ to an earl. Guiltily, she thought of The Theatre Box. Suddenly, she wanted to burn it. “I will never draw you again.”
“No, you won’t, my dear.” He lifted his hands from the book and stepped back, as though giving her room to breathe. “Your career is about to come to an end.”
She spun around. “But I must paint! How else will my family survive? My publisher expects a book in a month’s time!”
A part of her quailed at the earl’s sheer size, his intimidating pose with arms crossed over his wide chest, the hard line of his lips. But she tipped up her chin.
His lips softened. “I do not normally cancel gaming debts, Miss Hamilton. But I won’t be responsible for your ruination. I will tear up your father’s vowels.”
She should be overjoyed. He would return the money. They were saved. She had saved them all. She would return to the country. She would have to give up all her hard-won independence.
Solemnly, she shook her head. “My father always enters into deep play, my lord. He will only lose his money again. I am the only hope my family has. And you need not worry, I am not innocent.”
The lie rolled off her tongue before she could stop it.
His black brow lifted. He took a sharp breath. “Your father lied?”
“He doesn’t know, of course.”
She shivered again as his gaze swept her from curls to hem.
“You blush very prettily, my dear. But I have known of several courtesans who could summon a fetching flush on demand.”
Her face flamed hotter. “I am not innocent and I…I can prove it.”
“Can you?” Trent traced his gloved finger along the length of one of the paintbrushes in her picture. “So you have experienced the pleasures that you paint?”
Venetia was riveted by the sight. Her voice, where was her voice? “Y—yes,” she lied.
“If you are not innocent then you must know how such a caress would feel.” He circled his fingertip over the painted vulva. “You must know how a man delights in parting those soft lips and finding the heat and honey within.”
He paused. Silence stretched for many fervent heartbeats. She heard her soft, quick breaths. The tick of the mantel clock. The greedy roar of the flames.
“Do you touch yourself like this, sweeting? Do you paint your quim with your brush until you are creamy and wet? Do you enjoy threesomes? Do you prefer two cocks at your command, or another woman’s juicy cunny?”
Her knees felt as insubstantial as sea foam.
He lifted her hand from the back of the chair, gave a light brush across her knuckles with his lips. Gentlemanly. Safe. But he drew her index finger into his mouth and she was shocked and thrilled. His tongue toyed with the ridge of her fingernail, soaking the thin cotton.
How could the stroke of his tongue on her finger make her ache between her thighs?
But it did.
Why didn’t she pull her hand back? Stop him? She couldn’t. His words, his forbidden words, cast an irresistible spell.
She must relax. How would the auburn-haired courtesan she’d created behave? A woman bold enough to pleasure her lover in a theatre box wouldn’t be gasping in shock at a kiss on her fingertips.
He released her finger and reached for the hem of her glove. Goodness, she was about to lose an article of clothing. He bared her hand and her glove fluttered to the carpet.
“In one kiss, sweetheart, I’ll know if you are innocent or not.”
No, he wouldn’t. She would kiss him like a courtesan. She wasn’t certain how a jade kissed, but it must be with great passion. Unfortunately, she was entirely on her own. None of her father’s pictures depicted kisses.
With a gentle tug, he drew her to take a step closer. She lost balance, fell into his embrace. Her body pressed along his and his erection nudged her stomach. So close, so intimately close.
His lordship caught her other hand by the wrist, surprisingly quick despite the lazy grace of his movements. In a heartbeat, both her hands were captured in his.
Fighting the urge to gulp, she stared as bold as brass into his turquoise eyes. But she felt anything but bold as his lips—his perfectly sculpted, sensual lips—lowered toward hers.
She must behave like a wanton.
She was wanton. His mouth was a work of art, but all she could think of was pressing her mouth to that perfection and making it yield to her. Feigning sauciness, she slid her foot up his lordship’s polished boot. Her soft slipper followed the shape of his bulging calf. The leather fit him like a second skin.
He caught her around the waist, his large hands splayed over her hips. Her nipples ached—she needed something…some pressure against them. She arched up against him, so sinfully close her breasts pushed into his hard and solid chest.
His lips slanted over hers and her moan vanished into his mouth. She tasted his morning coffee, a trace of smoke, and heat, delicious heat.
She had no chance to pretend passion—he lured her lips apart and slid his tongue inside. She’d never kissed like this. She’d only had one peck, one boring, meaningless peck in her whole life! This was scandalous, luscious. His tongue filled her mouth, touched hers, and coaxed it into sensual play.
Venetia slid her arms around his neck and dared to let her fingertips stroke his black hair, softer than the sable in her treasured brushes.
He moaned. Hoarsely.
She’d made him moan. A thrill of power rushed through her. She felt, wild, reckless, mad. Deep in her throat, she moaned again, too. She lifted her leg, seeking to wrap it around his hips. To hold him close. To never let him go.
Why had she never thought to draw something as spectacular as a kiss?
Her body burned with need. Dizzying desire swamped her. She slipped her hands up his back—the earl’s broad, hard, beautiful back. She stroked the planes she’d drawn, imagining bare skin, sculpted muscle. His hands cupped her rear, squeezing, so she grabbed hold of his rump. Goodness, he had beautiful buttocks—hard and smooth and tightly indented at the sides. If he were on top of her, inside her, she would grab him there and clutch his muscular derriere as he plunged into her—
He set her back on her feet, pulled her hands from his rear. “That’s enough, sweetheart. You are every inch a gently bred virgin. That unskilled kiss was definite proof.”
She clung to his hands, unsteady. Unskilled kiss? Wonderful kiss. Dizzying kiss. She’d been passionate. How could he know she was innocent after that?
“I—” She wanted another kiss. Wanted more. She couldn’t think.
“Eventually your secret will get out, Miss Hamilton. Do you want to ruin your sisters too?”
She shook her head. No, that she couldn’t do. “But I want to be independent. I can’t bear living each day knowing that disaster will come at any moment. Can you not understand that?”
“It’s not safe, Miss Hamilton.”
“So you will save me against my will? Why?”
His lips lifted in a lopsided grin and her heart somersaulted in her chest.
“Because my sister, Lady Ravenwood, insisted it was the right thing to do,” he said. “My father made a career of ruining innocents. I do not intend to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately for the males of England, Miss Hamilton, your career is most definitely finished.”
CHAPTER TWO
“And here is your brand-new nephew!”
Marcus