The Rogue's Proposal by Jennifer Haymore

leavings for a man. I have…I have already served that role, and I
     won’t do it again.”
    He stared at her, his blue eyes inscrutable, his expression impenetrable. Then he
     said, quite calmly, “If Henry Curtis were alive, I’d tear him limb from limb.”
    She frowned at him, then shook her head.
    Frustration swelled in his voice. “Emma, as long as you and I lie in the same bed,
     whether we are having ‘relations’ or not, I will not touch another woman.” He gave
     her a tight smile. “You and I both know my promises hold little worth, but there it
     is. As for what I do at night, I drink ale. I sit. That’s all.”
    “That sounds like a very lonely way to spend an evening.”
    He shrugged.
    A part of her believed him, but another part was confused. “Then why do you do it?”
     she pressed. “Why do you leave every night?”
    “You know why,” he said.
    “No. I don’t.”
    “I told you. After the nightm—after I woke you in the middle of the night.”
    She shook her head in confusion, and she sighed.
    “Because I made a promise not to touch you.”
    “But you have touched me.”
    He gave a low, cynical laugh. “Not like I want to.”
    She closed her eyes against the burning-hot thrill that shuddered through her. He
     was silent, but she felt the heat of his gaze on her.
    “You are a rogue, Luke. I deciphered that within ten seconds of knowing you.”
    He gave another short laugh, this one with a hint of scorn.
    “I promised myself I would never again be taken in by another rogue. Because…well,
     because Henry was a rogue…and…and that didn’t turn out well. At all. And the night
     I met you, I knew that I must remember that promise. Because you were obviously just
     like him.”
    Her heart had started to pound, and her words emerged sounding choppy and breathy.
    He tilted his head. “What are you trying to say? Because I know all that, Emma. I
     know why you are so adverse to intimacy with a man like me. I don’t blame you. It’s
     why I am trying to honor the agreement we made.”
    “I don’t like you leaving at night.” The words rushed out of her.
    His lips parted. He stared at her. Then he shrugged and looked down at his food. His
     voice took on a cynical quality. “You don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice.”
    “Luke,” she groaned.
    His gaze snapped to hers again, and she couldn’t have broken the eye contact even
     if she’d wanted to. His lips curled in that oh-so-wicked smile he’d used on her that
     first night. “Remember, I said the only thing that could break our agreement was if
     you begged for it. Is that what you’re going to do? Beg for it?”
    A part of her wanted to beg. A very big part of her wanted him to take her to bed
     and keep her there, and never go down to another pub or tavern again, never drink
     again, never look at another woman again, never gamble again.
    He moved closer, shoving the food out of the way as he advanced. He cupped her cheek
     in his hand, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone as he spoke. “I want you, Emma.
     I have since that first night. Every single night, my body is an inferno burning just
     for you. And every night I deny it. Every night I suffer. Will you beg? Will you relieve
     my suffering?”
    Her throat was dry. She squeezed her eyes shut because she couldn’t bear to gaze into
     the blue fire of his. Soon, that fire would consume her. “I…I don’t know.”
    “Don’t do it,” he whispered, his breath whispering over her lips. He brushed her lips
     with his gently as he continued. “I’m not good enough for you. Angels aren’t meant
     for devils.”
    “I’m no angel,” she whispered, “and you’re no devil.” The declaration surprised her
     even as it emerged from her lips, but in her heart of hearts, she knew it was true.
     And in her heart of hearts, she knew with the purest clarity that she wanted him.
    He pulled back, his expression growing distant. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I were