The Secret Desires of a Governess by Tiffany Clare Page A

trampled and beaten into the ground.
    Before she could push him away, though, he took a step back, sliding his hands from beneath hers. Was he fighting his desires, too?
    She had never been so horrible at reading a person. To her, his eyes, his intent could not be made out in his sharp gaze. She saw no anger. No upset. Not even a reflection of the arousal she certainly felt right now. Was the man devoid of all emotion?
    “You don’t want to stop,” he said. His voice was like brandy in coffee. Smooth, practiced, and warming . . . just intoxicating enough to loosen inhibitions.
    “You do your son a disser vice in your attempt to seduce me.”
    She hated to admit the truth now. Not when living in a fantasy world filled with erotic promise held so much appeal.
    “Drivel.”
    Abby pinched her lips together. He was right. What would she have done had he not moved away from her?
    Submit? She hoped she had more control over her body and mind than to do something so foolish.
    Walking to the middle of the room, she turned her back to him and tucked her scarf back into the bodice. Had she had her wits about her, she’d have pushed him away before he had started undressing her. But she hadn’t.
    She said nothing. Really, what was there to say? She felt gauche. Awkward. Confused by her conflicting feelings to flee when really she wanted nothing more than to allow him any and all the liberties he wished. Any and all liberties she wished, but couldn’t voice aloud.
    There had been a thread of need in his voice when he’d told her that he had tried to avoid her— that admittance had been a sharp hook luring her in.
    With a deep inhalation and a determined firmness to her stance, she headed toward the door before
    she could change her mind.
    She made it close, but didn’t quite escape before Lord Brendall gently grasped her by the hand and spun her around to face him. She didn’t need coaxing. She allowed her body to be pulled flush up against his. He was like a blazing fire down the front of her. So hot, she melted against that warmth and swayed more firmly into his grasp.
    Gone was the frigidness she’d hoped to display and in its place a wantonness she had never felt toward any other man. Definitely not for any of the men who had attempted to court her in London, nor any of the men who had sequestered her on a darkened balcony to steal a kiss.
    Lord Brendall was none of those men.
    He was brash and unkind.
    Ill mannered and cross.
    She should despise him for those traits alone, yet she couldn’t. She also sensed him to be a caring father, a man who could take advantage of her in his position but held back. Why did he hold back? If he wanted what she wanted, why stop himself in his own domain? Because he was a decent man under all that gruffness, that was why.
    And what did it say about her character that she so badly wanted him to take? And take. And take.
    When Lord Brendall lowered his mouth to hers, there was a spark, like a jolt of lightning, hitting her dead center and setting her heart to a frantic pace. She moaned as the impact of his mouth to hers forced her lips open.
    He did not coax, did not tease. He took. And before now, this was not a liberty she’d given to any man. Everything in the past had always been done on her terms. But she hadn’t pulled away, she’d invited his actions. She wanted him to do so much more.
    Curse her stupidity to hell and back, she didn’t want to protest or deny him anything at the moment.
    Her fingers curled over the bulging muscles in his upper arms. He was tightly strung beneath her fingers, whereas she was clay in his hands.
    His tongue slid into her mouth, playing and wrapping around hers. Unsure how she should respond, she wrestled her tongue against his. Indulging when she ought to think twice about what she did with her employer.
    Now that she’d done the unthinkable, she couldn’t stop herself from taking a little bit more of what Lord Brendall offered. She wanted a taste