Tempt the Devil by Anna Campbell Page A

lowered and she shot him back a look that was pure temptation. He had to remind himself it was nothing but an act. Or an act that covered a reality she wasn’t aware of.
    This damned game proved more a conundrum with every moment.
    â€œHow would you like me to treat you?” she purred, turning and running her hand down his jaw. “Mmm, freshly shaved.”
    â€œYou’ve got such delicate skin. I don’t want to mark you.” He reached out and curled his hand around her neck. The fine hairs that escaped her upswept hairstyle tickled his fingers. He paused and dragged in a breath. “I have to kiss you.”
    Her expression froze and she jerked free. “No.”
    â€œWe’ll kiss before we’re done, Olivia.”
    â€œWe’ll be done before we kiss. Should I let down my hair?”
    â€œLet me.” He felt like he was with a new lover. Of course, last night he hadn’t been her lover. Nor, for all her sensual banter and his predatory desire, would he be tonight.
    Unless he lost control.
    The searing memory of how she’d sucked him dry turned his confidence to ash. How easy to surrender. Leave her in charge. Accept pleasure without her true participation. But the fruit of that tree was rotten at the core, in spite of the deceptive sheen on its skin.
    No amount of logic could shake Erith’s certainty that if he gained her genuine response, his every sin would be forgiven.
    It was as stark, as important, and as unreasonable as that.
    So he moved forward, hiding his inner turmoil, and pulled the first pin from her thick, shining hair. A tawny lock fell softly over her shoulder. He didn’t know what color to call her hair. It combined every shade from blond to bronze to auburn. A hymn to autumn.
    He returned to a question that niggled at him. “Do you like women?”
    Of course she wasn’t shocked. She hadn’t risen to the position of London’s most sought-after courtesan withoutencountering the less conventional variations on human passion. He imagined little was outside her experience. “As bed partners? No.”
    â€œYou need fear no condemnation. I’ve seen so much in my travels, I call almost nothing unnatural anymore.”
    Olivia laughed softly and the sound curled around him like a warm fire. “Men and camels?”
    He’d wanted her from the first moment he saw her. That was to be expected. He was a man of more than usually strong appetites and she was breathtakingly beautiful. Less expected was that the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her.
    He laughed in return. “Perhaps not quite camels.” His voice lowered into seriousness. “Some cyprians prefer their own sex because their history with my own is too cruel.”
    Because he stood so close, he heard her breath hitch. A clue. Although not one he wanted. Some bastard had mistreated her. It must have been long ago. The fellows he’d met who had shared her bed were so in awe of her, they wouldn’t have the balls to abuse her.
    Her jaw firmed. “My lack of response extends to men, women…and camels.”
    He knew she hated talking about this. Not from modesty but because it threatened some bastion inside. That was why he pursued it. She’d never surrender until he swept her barriers away.
    â€œI’ve seen you with Lord Peregrine.”
    She stiffened and her expression became shuttered. “What about it?”
    He shrugged, sliding another pin from her upswept hair. “I know what he is, Olivia.”
    She wrenched away, dislodging another serpentine lock of hair, and twisted her hands in front of her. “Perry is my friend.”
    Erith regarded her calmly. “He’s also a man who desires his own sex.”
    She whitened further. For the first time, he noticed faint freckles sprinkled across her aristocratic nose. She’d have been a hoydenish tomboy as a girl, with her untamed hair and strong, wiry