A Certain Wolfish Charm by Lydia Dare

remaining pieces of glass. She lifted her foot and winced.
       "What's wrong?"
       "Just a piece of glass in my foot, Simon," she sighed.
       His expression immediately softened. "A great excuse to hold you," he said softly as he scooped her up in his arms.
       "Simon, put me down," she scolded him. "Why is it that you think I can't walk on my own two feet?"
       "Because one of your two feet is injured, Lily love." She heard the laughter in his voice and couldn't help but smile at him. The scent of whisky caressed the side of her face.
       "Simon, I think you're foxed," she smiled. "Put me down before you drop me."
       "I'm not so foxed that I can't carry you to bed." He met her eyes with that suggestive comment. She felt the heat creep up her face.
       "Perhaps you should drop me at my door," she murmured.
       "Perhaps you should be quiet and let me decide what I'll do with you," he goaded her as they entered her room and he tossed her onto the bed. Before she could scramble to her feet, he had her injured foot in his hand. Even foxed, he moved faster than any man she'd ever met.
       When he'd tossed her onto the bed, her nightrail had risen, exposing her calves. She tugged at the hem, trying to find some modicum of decency.
       Alas, Simon was no help at all.
       "I have seen your ankles before, Lily. Now be a good girl and sit still," he ordered as he closed one eye and tried to focus on her injury.
       "How much have you had to drink, Simon?"
       "Way more than I should have," he murmured. He stilled her foot and pulled the shard from her tender skin. Smiling, he held the small sliver up for her perusal. "Got it."
       It was rare to see Simon actually smile. A scowl was much more like him. He got up, crossed to the water pitcher, and wet the handkerchief from his pocket. She held her hand out to him when he returned with it. But he took her foot in his hand again and said, "Let the doctor work, will you?"
       He gently washed the bottom of her foot until he'd cleaned it enough to satisfy his own need to assist. Then he took her foot in his hand and peered at it closely. "I have never understood what makes you women think you need to keep your ankles hidden." His hand slipped up to cup her slim calf.
       "Simon, that's not at all proper," she reminded him, tugging at the bottom of her nightrail again.
       "A view of your foot doesn't particularly make me lose all control, Lily."
       "Well, that's good to know, Simon." She rolled her eyes and tugged her foot, trying to pull it from his grasp.
       But he held strong. "It's not like it's your calf, love," he said as his hand trailed up the back of her leg, his arm pushing her nightrail with every caress of his fingers.
       "Now, when I see this, I can't help but think naughty thoughts." He smiled lewdly at her.
       "Simon," she said more forcefully.
       " Simon ," he mocked her, making a face that caused her to giggle. But then he sobered. "Do you know why I think naughty thoughts when I see your calf?"
       Lily's heart thumped in her breast. "W-why?" she stuttered.
       "Because I know that above this knee," he said as he slid his hand up the back of her knee to the sensitive skin of her thigh, "lies what I want above all things, Lily," he murmured as he bent to kiss her.
       Before he could touch his lips to hers, she breathed against his mouth, "You want that above all things?"
       "Mmm. More than anything." He nodded, his lips barely brushing hers.
       And that was all it took. He may as well have doused her with a big glass of water.
       He'd dismissed her. He'd tried to send her away, to marry her off. He'd kissed her. He'd touched her inappropriately. And, above all things, he'd made her want him to do it all over again. But she needed to keep her wits about her.
       "Simon," she whispered. "You need to leave."
       He frowned at her. "Don't ask me that, Lily. I need