Page 8 of The Earl’s Scarred Bride (Taming the Gillets #2)
CHAPTER EIGHT
T he moment her father and Dinah departed, Elizabeth found herself alone with Cecil in his study, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. She stood by the windowsill, watching their carriage disappear down the long drive, gathering her courage for what she needed to say.
"Cecil," she began, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. "You need to be more careful. You're being too...familiar with every lady you meet."
Cecil turned to her, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "Jealous, are we?"
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed, but she held her ground. "Certainly not. I merely think you should be more mindful of your actions. This is not the behavior you promised me."
Cecil stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're right. I promised you many things, didn't I?" His voice was a low rumble, a sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Elizabeth's spine. She needed to change the subject, to escape the intensity of his gaze.
"I want to make some changes," she blurted out, her eyes darting to the door of the room he had forbidden her from entering. "That room, for instance. It's high time it saw some light and fresh air."
Cecil's expression darkened briefly, a shadow passing over his features. "That room is off-limits, Elizabeth. You know that."
Elizabeth lifted her chin, defiance sparking in her eyes. "Yes, but I want to change it. Those paintings, for instance?—"
"Those paintings stay," Cecil interjected, his voice firm. Elizabeth bristled at his tone, her suspicions about the paintings' origins fueling her resolve. She still believed them to belong to an ex-lover, a thought that ignited a fire within her.
"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to make changes. I need to do this, Cecil."
Cecil regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips. "Very well. You can make your changes. But on one condition."
Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest. "And what might that be?"
Cecil stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You give me something in return."
Elizabeth's breath hitched, her mind racing with possibilities. She didn't truly care for the room, but the principle of it, the need to assert her presence in this manor, drove her to agree. "Alright," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want?"
Cecil's gaze slithered over Elizabeth, his eyes burning with a raw hunger that made her skin prickle. He raked his gaze over the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, and she could practically hear him growling like a beast stalking its prey. The flickering candlelight caressed her body, casting long, dark shadows that only served to fan the flames of his desire.
"You have no clue what you do to me," he rasped, his voice low and dangerous. "How much I want to tear your clothes off and make you senseless right here and now."
Elizabeth's pulse quickened, and she fought the urge to squirm under his intense scrutiny. She knew she should put some distance between them before things got out of hand, but her traitorous body betrayed her, rooting her to the spot like a deer caught in headlights.
Cecil prowled around her, moving with a grace that belied his size and strength. "Every time I see you," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, "all I can think about is bending you over that desk and sinking deep inside you."
His fingers traced a path along the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she clenched her fists to keep from grabbing onto him.
"Cecil..." She tried to make her voice sound firm, authoritative, but it came out as a breathy plea instead. She knew she should tell him to back off, but the words died on her lips as his fingers tightened in her hair.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Tell me to stop," he dared her, his tone confident, domineering. "Tell me you don't want to feel my hands all over you. My mouth on your skin.."
Her breath hitched at his crude words, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. She knew she should be outraged by his presumption, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted him to do exactly what he'd just described.
His hand slid down her back, stopping at the curve of her waist. His touch was possessive, demanding, and she couldn't help but arch her back, pressing herself against him.
Before she could say anything, his mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss. She gasped in surprise, and he took advantage of her parted lips, thrusting his tongue inside to explore the warmth of her mouth. His kiss was rough and unapologetic, and she could feel the barely restrained power in his muscles as he held her against him.
Elizabeth's hands clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of the whirlwind of sensation. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the kiss was over.
Cecil pulled back, his eyes dark and stormy with desire. "That was just a taste, love," he growled, his thumb brushing over her swollen lips. "I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to explore every inch of your body, find out exactly what makes you moan, what makes you scream."
The raw, animalistic quality in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew that she was in way over her head. But even as she tried to tell herself to run, to get as far away from him as possible, her body refused to cooperate, still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Cecil's lips curved into a cruel smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Oh, don't worry," he said, his voice low and deadly. "You'll be begging for more long before I'm done with you.”
Without another word, she fled the study, her heart pounding in her chest. Behind her, she heard his low laugh follow her down the corridor, a sound that both thrilled and infuriated her.
"Run all you want, wife," he called after her, his voice laced with amusement and something darker, more enticing. "But we both know you'll be back."