Page 51 of Rogue of My Heart

“I would love to take the credit, but I’m afraid, I am only accompanying my sister this evening. It is she who has caught Lord Blaire’s eye,” Charlotte said.

He tsked his tongue. “While your sister is quite pretty, I have always preferred raven-colored hair to the fashionable blondes.” He reached out and wrapped his finger around one of the strands brushing her shoulders.

She’d been flattered before, so many times that normally compliments fell flat. But coming from him, those words seemed to actually hit their mark, permeating her skin. As if she were being told for the very first time that she was pretty. Her pulse sped and nerves agitated the insides of her stomach.

“Do tell your sister to take care, though. Lord Blaire has quite the reputation,” he said.

She snorted, unladylike as possible and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Good heavens. “Are you, the famed masked thief, warning against another man’s reputation?”

He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Merely a suggestion. Though I did seek you out for a specific reason tonight.”

“To warn me about my sister’s suitor?”

“No. But rather to warn you against your impetuous behavior of allowing rogues to steal your kisses. You should take greater care with your safety.”

She raised her brows slowly. “That is rather rich coming from you, is it not? You being the one who stole the kiss in question.”

“Precisely, but you should know I am not the only masked thief in London.” His voice took on a hard note. “While you are...relatively safe with me, you cannot always be certain of who you find yourself cornered with.”

“Relatively safe?” Why was her heart beating so quickly? And why did it feel as if she had a herd of deer trampling through her stomach? What did that mean? Did he have intentions to ravish her? She should not enjoy that thought. Still, delicious tingles scattered through her body. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“Only that here in this darkened corridor, I could take liberties with you.”

She swallowed. Was it her imagination that his gaze was burning holes through her gown, blazing a path down her naked flesh? Her nipples tightened. Her breathing quickened. She could not possibly want him to take liberties with her. Could she? She should be afraid, yet she wasn’t. A true lady would be frightened and appalled, yet she knew deep into her soul there was nothing to fear from the man in front of her. He seemed familiar. Almost comfortable to be around. But that didn’t make any sense.

“I trust you,” she said, her voice coming out in barely a whisper.

“You shouldn’t.” His tone was teasing, but something else as well. Something darker and more predatory. “I could have my hands up your skirts in a manner of seconds. Despite your many layers, I would wager your drawers are split and I could easily have my way with you.”

She sucked in a breath, uncertain if she were appalled or aroused. This man was surprising. He was a masked man—a thief—and he was merely toying with her. She wanted very much to throw caution to the wind, close her eyes and lean into him, but her feet would not move.

Still, she had a task to complete. Namely to unveil his identity. Here, she had the perfect opportunity for that, she need only maintain her focus.

She might not be able to lean in for a kiss, but she could certainly attempt to entice him into stealing one. Slowly, she looked up at him and bit into her lower lip. “If you have a preference for me—as I’m assuming that’s what you were implying with your comment about raven hair—why would you not simply tell me who you are?” She slicked her tongue out and moistened her lips.

His eyes traveled down her face and landed on her mouth. And she could have sworn she heard him growl. “If only it were that simple.” Then he pulled her close to him and leaned in for a kiss.

This time, he moved across her lips with a bit more fervor. Don’t forget your agenda. Deftly, he nibbled and suckled her bottom lip, his tongue sliding across the seam of her mouth until she opened for him. Don’t forget your agenda. She tentatively brushed her tongue against his and the sensation surged desire, hot and wet, through her body, landing in her core. Don’t forget your agenda. She gripped the sides of his arms and leaned further into him. Her hardened nipples grazed his chest, and she couldn’t help but release a small moan of pleasure at the sensation.

She was losing control of the situation and nearly herself. Kissing him was not her task, only the means to accomplish said task. Her body did not want that reminder. No, her traitorous body wanted to rub against him like a wanton. Good heavens, she needed to unmask him before he debauched her right here in the darkened corridor of the opera house.

With a swift movement, she reached up to the side of his face, right above his ear where the band of the mask rested. She had barely placed a finger on it before he grabbed her wrist firmly and held her out in front of him.

“Very crafty, Miss Reed, but not tonight.” And with that, he turned and left her standing stunned and alone, her lips swollen and her body still humming with desire.

Edmond tore off the mask once he was seated inside the dark confines of his carriage. He should not have been surprised by Charlotte’s boldness, or her curiosity. He was the one who kept stealing her kisses; she certainly had a right to know who he was for taking such liberties. Then again, she had deliberately enticed him tonight. She’d known exactly what she was doing. Persuading him to kiss her all so she could unmask him. He was a damned fool.

His cock was still hard, still aching for more. He tore at the placket of his trousers, unfastening enough to withdraw his hardened length. He paused long enough to tug off his gloves, then spat in his palm before gripping his shaft. There was no mercy used as he tugged and shuttled, nearly punishing himself for wanting her as much as he did.

Edmond rested his head back on the seat behind him and squeezed his eyes shut. Curse her for poisoning him the way she had. Pleasure coiled up his spine and his bollocks drew tighter.

“Charlotte, damn you,” he whispered in the dark.

Grabbing his handkerchief, he held it to the tip of his cock to collect his spend. His climax rocked through him and he hissed her name once more through his teeth.

He ignored the low boil of shame heating his stomach. Tonight was the last time he’d touch Charlotte Reed. It had to be. He’d accomplished his task. Warned her of the other thief.

What was it about her that drew him in, despite knowing she was nothing more than shallow, selfish girl?