Waking Up With a Rake by Connie Mason, Mia Marlowe

off her father’s estate for good.
    Instead she did the last thing he expected.
    “If I were to decide to let you educate me,” she said with only a slight quaver in her voice, “what would the first lesson be?”

Chapter 10
    His hot gaze sizzled over her.
    Dear God, please don’t let the man ask me to repeat myself. I doubt my voice will work.
    “Are you sure, Olivia?” he said, a hint of a smile playing around his firm lips. “Though knowledge is much to be desired, and believe me, this sort of learning is far more pleasurable than doing a row of sums, you can’t un-know something once you’ve learned it. You must be certain this is what you want before we begin.”
    By seeming to take away his offer to open the door to sensuality, he only made her want it more.
    “One lesson,” she whispered. “One only.”
    There. She’d said it. Just as there was no way to undo the kiss he’d given her that morning, there was no way for her to unsay the words.
    “Very well, if you’re sure,” he said. “Stand up and take off your wrapper.”
    She gasped. “My wrapper?”
    “If you’re going to repeat every directive before you do it, this will take a very long time.” He leaned back in the chair and hooked an ankle over his knee, like a pasha contemplating his latest concubine. “Come to think of it, these things shouldn’t be rushed. Whenever you’re ready, then. Unless, of course, you’ve lost your courage.”
    Thought her a nervous Nellie, did he? She’d show him courage. She stood, unbelted her wrapper, and quickly began to yank it off.
    “No, no, not as if you’re killing snakes. Take your time. These things are meant to be savored.” He stood and draped the garment back around her shoulders. “Close your eyes. Let it drift off one shoulder and down your arm. Just so. Now the other. Very good. Feel the texture of the fabric as it sloughs off.”
    “I can’t,” she said, her eyes scrunched tightly. “My nightrail has long sleeves. The wrapper isn’t actually touching me.”
    “If you can’t use your imagination, that’s easily remedied. Take off the nightrail too.”
    “What?” Her eyes flew open.
    “You wanted the first lesson. Here it is. Your body is beautiful and was designed to give you pleasure. You only need to focus, to revel in the sensations, and your body will do the rest.”
    She snorted. “In a pig’s eye.”
    “You don’t believe me?”
    “I don’t believe my body is beautiful, no.”
    “Then that is your first error and one we shall have to correct immediately. Come.” He took her hand, led her toward the long looking glass in the corner, and positioned her so she could see herself. “The light isn’t the best here, but it will serve. Now stand still.”
    Olivia watched his face in the mirror as he reached around and untied the bow at the neckline of her prim nightrail. He was utterly intent on her. If the focused expression on his face was any indication, he believed her body was beautiful.
    Or at least imagined it might be.
    He unbuttoned the line of seed pearls that marched down the front of the garment. A piece of her came undone along with each button. Then he parted the fabric with deliberate slowness, drawing his fingertips along her collarbones as he exposed more of her skin to view. Pleasure sparked in the wake of his touch.
    “You see? Smooth, silky, beautiful,” he murmured into her hair.
    Her breath ran shallow as he pushed the nightrail off one shoulder and let it slide down her arm. One breast was bared in the light of the fire, its tip a hardened nub. When she caught him looking at it in their shared reflection, her nipple actually throbbed.
    She pressed a palm against it to still the strange ache.
    “No, you don’t,” he said, gently moving her hand from her breast. “No hiding from yourself.”
    “But it…I…” She could find no words for what she was feeling. It had happened before when he kissed her, and now that dull throb between her