Juliana Shelley couldn’t breathe. She knew how to breathe, of course. But she couldn’t seem to drag in air as the very tall, extremely well-favored man she’d noticed at the bar the moment she entered this place crossed the room toward her.
He couldn’t be coming for her, of course. Not when all around her far more experienced women offered things she’d been taught all her life to withhold. She was shocked by what she saw, in truth. Men and women grinding together in a titillating display of activities she had only ever read about in a naughty book she found in her father’s study months ago.
Being here was far more powerful than looking at those things, dreaming of them while she touched herself.
She swallowed hard because the man coming her way had stopped. He was just an arm’s length from her now, and he stared at her, seeking…something. She didn’t know what exactly, but she shifted under his regard.
He had a black leather mask covering the top half of his face, but she could see the almost navy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the harsh line of his jaw. His dark hair was a little too long and slashed across his forehead in a wild wave she somehow wanted to smooth.
Her heart rate increased as he gave her a half smile. Something cocksure and a little smug. She should have been turned away from such an expression, surely she had refused many a man of her class in the past because he had a smirk. But that wasn’t what she wanted to do now.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice low and rough in the din around them.
She swallowed hard. There went breath again. She could only hope she would remember how to form coherent sentences a bit more easily.
“Good evening,” she returned, and hated that her voice cracked a little.
He arched a brow. She saw the movement beneath the leather, and for a moment she felt a sense of familiarity. But that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know this man. She couldn’t.
“I couldn’t help but notice your entry into the hall,” he purred as he grasped two glasses of wine from a passing footman’s tray. He held out one and she took it with shaking hands. When she did so, his fingers brushed against hers. By design, she thought, but that didn’t reduce the effect of him touching her.
It was like fire under her skin. She sipped the drink to soothe her dry throat and try to regroup. “Thank you?” she said.
He chuckled at the question in her tone. “But I can’t help but wonder if you know what you came for.”
She jerked her face toward him. He had a touch of mocking to his tone now. Her spine straightened in response. She had never been the one in her family to fight. That was her sister Anne, but right now Juliana felt like channeling that strength to defend herself.
“I came here for what everyone comes here for,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Perhaps it is you who is confused if you must ask.”
She sounded far braver than she felt, and for that she was pleased. He, on the other hand, didn’t look as much. His full lips pursed a fraction—was it in annoyance? She couldn’t tell without full view of his expression. And in that moment, she realized just what a dangerous position she’d put herself in. She didn’t know this man or his intentions or motives. He could be of a cruel bent. He could be the kind of man who didn’t accept no as an answer. Or who reacted with violence when challenged as she had just challenged him.
She swallowed hard, waiting for him to say something, do something. Then he cocked his head. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I think I have offended you. I didn’t intend it.”
“You didn’t offend,” she said softly, carefully. She glanced around them, the spell broken for a fraction of a moment. There was a couple at a table just to her left who were passionately kissing. The woman was perched in the man’s lap, grinding down on him as their tongues tangled.
She darted her gaze away as a gasp left her lips and her body jolted with awareness. Gods, what had she done?
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he said.
She turned her attention back to him, wishing she didn’t feel so hot and achy when he was standing so near. She nodded. “What is it?”
“Why are you here?” He motioned his head to the kissing couple. “Your shocked expression when you see them touch each other, it says to me that you aren’t a bawd as you might wish to be seen.”
She lifted her hand and touched her mask. It covered the scar that slashed her cheek. She couldn’t feel it beneath the fabric, but she knew it was there.
Memories returned to her in a wave. Of a man who’d taken her because he thought she was her sister. As one of a set of triplets, that was a common mistake, but this time it had nearly proved deadly. The man had attacked when he wasn’t given what he wanted.
And she was left…damaged. She saw it in the mirror every day. She knew what it would do to her future, especially when combined with the shocking actions of her sisters as they found their true loves in the past weeks.
“I’m here because I don’t want to…”
She bent her head. This man was a stranger, she owed him no explanation. And yet with the masks, telling him some version of the truth felt easier.
“Want to?” he encouraged, almost gently.
She worried her lip with her teeth. “I want to feel something good,” she said. “I want to feel something just for me.”
He was silent for a long moment, holding his gaze on hers. It felt like an eternity passed by, like they were suspended in their own bubble amidst the shocking debauchery of the room around them. Then he held out a hand.
“Come with me to the back room. And I can make you feel something. That thing you want to feel.”
She stared at the outstretched hand. Ungloved, strong, lean fingers, a scar across the top of the second and third knuckles. She let her stare slide up the man’s forearm, hidden under black wool, to the bicep that strained against the same, to broad shoulders that spoke of strength caged beneath propriety.
And finally she let her gaze settle on his lips. This was what she’d come for, wasn’t it? This moment where a man would choose her, would guide her to some quiet room and take her. Take the thing she had been guarding her whole life, and for what?
She didn’t want her innocence anymore. She wanted to feel alive.
Still, those old habits died hard. Politeness, propriety, protection. If she took that hand, everything would change. There was a strong part of her that wanted to pivot and run from this room and its heady air of sex and passion. Run from a man who would crook his fingers and know she’d follow.
“Miss?” he said, his tone gruff.
She let out the breath she’d been holding and took his hand. “Yes.”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes as she touched him. Desire, she thought. That emotion had never been pointed at her, but she’d seen such a look in both her sisters’ husbands’ expressions when the couples thought no one was looking. But there was something else in this man’s gaze, too. Respect? Regret? Some combination of the two?
She didn’t understand it, but it didn’t matter what kind of past or pain brought this man here. It only mattered that he drew her forward, through the milling crowd, back to the entrance to a long hallway. He spoke briefly to a man standing there and then guided her farther from the relative safety of the hall. Into dimness and darkness.
From behind the doors she heard soft sighs, louder moans. Every sound put her further on edge. Made her question her decision, solidified the same decision as excitement grew in her chest. She was going to bed this man. Or let him bed her. She wasn’t certain she knew how to bed anyone, but certainly not this man who glanced over his shoulder as he opened the last door in the hall.
Their gazes met.
“Still want this, angel?” he asked.
She tensed. Angel. Another man had called her angel once, not that long ago.
She pushed the thought away. She wouldn’t think of him. She refused to acknowledge she’d thought of him at all over the weeks
since she last saw him. Since an afternoon of blood and pain and confusion that had changed her life forever.
“Yes,” she said, a bit too loudly as she tried to make the thoughts go away. “Yes.”
He pursed his lips again and stepped inside the room. She entered behind him, passed him, looking around. It was a small room with a big bed in front of a roaring fire. It seemed clean, elegant even, with its fine artwork and silky coverlet. Odd, for she had not pictured a club of ill repute being fine.
The door closed behind her with a click and she pivoted to face it. The masked man was leaning against it now, watching her as she reached out a hand to support herself on the back of a close-by chair.
“Changed your mind?” he pressed. “Now that you’re here?”
“Have you?” she asked.
“You know what I’ll do, don’t you?” he all but purred as he stepped toward her. “I’ll strip that gown off you. You’ll be naked before me. Then I’m going to touch you all over, until you’re arching, until you’re begging. And then I’m going to put my cock in you.”
She winced at the bold language he used. And yet the soft, sensual tone of those words excited her, too. After living her life without such blunt address, she found she actually liked it.
“Tell me you want that,” he said.
Her thighs clenched at the order, said in such a gravelly tone. “I-I think my coming with you to the room tells you that.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. I need the words. Say the words to me.”
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire as she stared at him. He couldn’t really want her to repeat those wicked things. She’d never said those kinds of statements before. “I can’t—”
“Say it,” he interrupted.
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was her last out. She could pretend offense and stomp from the room. He was all but daring her to do so. Or she could surrender to exactly what had brought her here tonight. Give herself over to the things this man promised.
“I want—” she whispered.
“Look at me,” he interrupted.
She let her eyes open and glared at him. “I want you to strip me naked. I want you to touch me. I want you to put your…your…” She huffed out a breath because her face felt like flames were devouring it. “I want you to put your cock in me. Please.”
She added the last bit out of habit. A lady always said please. But his smile fell as she did so. He drew in a long breath and set his shoulders back slightly.
Then he reached up and, without preamble, tugged his mask away. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open as he did so. Because she knew this man. Knew him far too well for her own good.
And he knew her.
“Ellis….Mr. Maitland,” she stammered, taking a long step away from him.
He shook his head slowly. “Miss Juliana Shelley,” he said softly. “What the hell are you doing?”
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Preorder Now - Available March 3, 2020
Also by Jess Michaels
The Shelley Sisters
A Reluctant Bride
A Reckless Runaway
A Counterfeit Courtesan
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The Scandal Sheet
The Return of Lady Jane
Stealing the Duke
Lady No Says Yes
My Fair Viscount
Guarding the Countess
The House of Pleasure
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The 1797 Club
The Daring Duke
Her Favorite Duke
The Broken Duke
The Silent Duke
The Duke of Nothing
The Undercover Duke
The Duke of Hearts
The Duke Who Lied
The Duke of Desire
The Last Duke
Seasons
An Affair in Winter
A Spring Deception
One Summer of Surrender
Adored in Autumn
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The Wicked Woodleys
Forbidden
Deceived
Tempted
Ruined
Seduced
Fascinated
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The Notorious Flynns
The Other Duke
The Scoundrel’s Lover
The Widow Wager
No Gentleman for Georgina
A Marquis for Mary
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To see a complete listing of Jess Michaels’ titles, please visit:
http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/books
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Jess Michaels likes geeky stuff, Vanilla Coke Zero, anything coconut, cheese, fluffy cats, smooth cats, any cats, many dogs and people who care about the welfare of their fellow humans. She is lucky enough to be married to her favorite person in the world and lives in the heart of Dallas, TX where she's trying to eat all the amazing food in the city.
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When she’s not obsessively checking her steps on Fitbit or trying out new flavors of Greek yogurt, she writes historical romances with smoking hot alpha males and sassy ladies who do anything but wait to get what they want. She has written for numerous publishers and is now fully indie and loving every moment of it (well, almost every moment).
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Jess loves to hear from fans! So please feel free to contact her in any of the following ways (or carrier pigeon):
www.AuthorJessMichaels.com
Email: [email protected]
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http://www.AuthorJessMichaels.com/
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