Succumb to Me (12 page)

He walked to the door of his study, keeping
his back to her. “For now. You may get dressed. I expect you to
wear less petticoats tomorrow. It took you far too long to undress
for me this day. Go now, before I can change my mind.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Winter did not know what to expect the next
day. When she was shown to Logan’s private quarters, she was
stunned to see a steaming bath awaiting her.

What was he about? She wondered, nervously
pacing the room as she awaited him in his private chamber.

She startled when the door opened suddenly,
but did not feel at ease to see it was Logan himself entering the
room.

Logan walked in without his jacket or
waistcoat, wearing his shirt with the neck half opened down his
chest and his cravat untied on either side of his neck. Black,
springy hair peeped from the neck of his white silk shirt, drawing
her gaze like a beacon signaling safety for the coast.

Except there was nothing safe about Lord
Remington. Everything about him was dangerous, and she would do
well to remember that.

Inky black locks of hair hung around his
face, reminding her forcibly of some roguish pirate bent on
pillaging. Perhaps it was his swarthy complexion, undaunted by
years of higher civilized life. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes
that made her think that way, that he was undressing her with his
eyes and imagining carnal pursuits.

Whatever the case, he made her supremely
uncomfortable and he knew it and exploited his effect on her.

She had a difficult time remaining aloof to
him when he seemed only interested in chipping away her cool
reserves. She could feel the protective wall she surrounded her
heart with crumbling under his sensual demands.

How long could she remain virtuous and good
under his onslaught?

“Why have you summoned me to your personal
chamber?” Winter asked, keeping distance between them with her
hands rested on the back of a chair, as if that woodwork would
somehow protect her should he decide to press his advantage.

It was merely an illusion of safety, but one
she preferred to maintain regardless.

He closed the door behind him, propping his
back on the solid wood and crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“I thought it was obvious, given the bath. I want you to remove
your clothing and get into the tub. I would not have requested you
to dress more sparingly had I had something else in mind.”

Her belly clenched on a hard spasm. She
swallowed hard, feeling her heart flutter in her chest yet again.
“Why?”

He smiled devilishly, increasing her tension.
“I find myself wanting to bathe you and wash your hair.”

Her throat seemed to close up on itself. She
swallowed again, trying to work her mouth. “Nothing more
nefarious?” she asked, willing moisture to return to her dry
mouth.

“Miss Stevens, if I simply wanted to bed you,
I would have done so already. I’m enjoying the chase far too much
to allow it to just end like that.”

She did not believe one word from his
deceptive tongue. All men lied to get what they wanted, and he was
no different.

As much as she wanted to argue, she knew if
she was ever going to fulfill this bargain, she had to comply with
his wishes, no matter how bizarre or uncomfortable she might find
them. He’d already seen everything she had to offer, what was the
difference of a bath?

She longed to figure out why he prolonged her
torture, but his games and motives he kept to himself. She was
merely a pawn on a chessboard.

In addition to that was the fact that in her
own household, she was not given the luxury of bathing whenever she
wanted, as she had before her father died. The steam of the water
beckoned her, smelling of sweet scented oils and perfumes.

Sighing and relinquishing her defeat this
time, she turned her back on him and removed her clothing as she
had before, neatly folding and setting her clothes on a chair and
walking to the bath. Logan, she ignored, willing herself to move
with a confidence she did not feel.

He might affect her, but he did not have to
know that he did.

Stepping into the tub, she settled inside,
letting the hot water cover her skin up to her shoulders. It was
almost too hot for her to stand, but she relished the slight
stinging of her skin in reaction to the heat. The warmth caressed
her skin, relaxing the ever present tension in her limbs. Lavender
filled her nostrils, soothing her nerves.

Much as she wanted to hate him, she greatly
appreciated the bath, but would never tell him so. If he meant to
seduce her with luxuries such as this, he might stand a chance.

It wouldn’t do to allow him the knowledge of
his success, however.

She dipped her head under the water, soaking
her head and hair before coming back up and resting her head
against a linen draped over the back of the porcelain tub.

Her eyes were shut, so she relied upon her
sense of hearing to follow his movements around the room. Two heavy
thuds reached her ears and the rustle of cloth.

Water splashed suddenly and she felt two feet
brush by her legs.

Her eyes flew open. She stifled a shriek to
see Logan stepping into the tub with her. Immediate danger assailed
her. Winter drew up her knees and locked her arms around her
legs.

“What are you doing?” she asked, strangling
on the words.

She couldn’t help but look at him as he
settled into the giant tub with her. Every inch of his flesh was
the same even toned bronze. Dark hair covered his calves and
thighs, even his chest and an arrow of hair led a path straight to
his groin.

His manhood stood semi-erect and enormous,
looking like a great beast had been unleashed and merely rested
before striking the unwary.

“You can’t be in here with me. It isn’t
appropriate.”

Logan barked a laugh. “And you bathing in
front of me is?”

“No,” she admitted, inching as far away from
him as she could.

“I told you I wished to bathe you. I did not
say I did not also want a bath,” he said, then dipped under the
water to wet his hair. His legs brushed against her hips, jolting
her with sensation.

When he came up, water ran in thick rivulets
down his face and chest, riveting her gaze. She shouldn’t look at
him like this, shouldn’t be in the tub with him. If anything, she
should have escaped when he was beneath the water, but somehow, she
knew that to try and leave would only provoke him into action.

Logan Cordell was not a man to be played
with.

His eyes glittered hotly. “Come here,” he
said, grabbing a sponge off the side table and soaking it in the
water. “Give me your foot.”

Reluctantly, she released the death grip
she’d held on her knees and allowed him to take her foot in his
hand. The moment his hand wrapped around the arch of her foot, he
pulled her closer, resting her calf on his knee as he rubbed the
sponge over the balls of her foot, her heel. He traveled up her
calf, the inside of her knee, to her thigh.

She stopped his hand from moving higher. “Do
not,” she said, her voice strangely husky despite her best
intentions to remain aloof from him.

“And what would you do to stop me?” he asked,
picking up her other foot to continue the cleaning.

“I might scream,” Winter said, flinching as
he rubbed the pads of her toes against the bristles of his
chin.

“There is no one here who would come to your
aid. My servants are under strict instructions to not interrupt
under any circumstance. Including your cries for help.”

“You blackguard!” she said, giving a little
shriek when he popped her big toe into his mouth.

The moment he began suckling her toe, all
thoughts of struggling fled from her mind. He nibbled the pad and
swept his tongue around it, then moved to nibble her other toes and
the ball of her foot.

“What are you doing?” she asked, choking back
a moan as he sucked her arch and his hands slid up her slick
calves.

“Pleasuring you? You do like it, do you not,
Winter? You like my mouth on your flesh. You like my hands touching
you in forbidden places,” he murmured huskily. He dropped her foot
into the water with a splash, pulling her by her legs until she was
face to face with him, her thighs around his hips, her woman’s
center unbelievably exposed beneath the water.

What would it take for him to close the gap
and force himself inside her?

Nothing, she realized. And she had no one
here who would aid her in escape.

His hairy thighs felt strange against her
skin, foreign and forbidden.

“I don’t like anything you do to me,” she
grit out, keeping her arms tight around her chest as he drew her
closer.

His hands settled in the water around her
hips. His thumbs rubbed the front of her hip bones, moving
lower.

“You lie, Winter. I can tell by the flush on
your cheeks that I’ve affected you.”

His thumbs rubbed lower still. She could feel
him play with the edges of her pubic bone, toying with the fine
hair that covered her sex. Her thighs tightened around his hips,
vainly trying to keep him from further exploration.

Winter bit her lip, struggling to break his
hold and knowing it was useless. “It’s the heat of the water that
causes my blush. Not you. I despise you and your touch. A lord you
may be, but you are no gentleman.”

He chuckled, dropping one hand to slip
against her nether lips.

She bucked in the water and he controlled her
with his free hand, his eyes holding her gaze like a steel cage.
“Stop that. Stop touching me as if you have the right.”

“Oh, but I do. You made the bargain and gave
your promise. You must fill your obligation or forfeit the painting
and your reputation.”

“You bastard,” she said through clenched
teeth. Every nerve seemed strained, riveting down to the
exploration of his fingers in her folds.

He grunted and parted the petals of her sex,
his fingers delving into a place she’d never even dared touch
herself. “Miss Stevens, where are your manners?” he said with a
chuckle. “I knew you were not immune to my touch—not as you wish
you were. Do you like the roughness of my fingers as I touch you
here?”

He fingered the nub hidden by her folds. She
vigorously shook her head.

“I think you do. Do you know what this
is?”

Again, she shook her head. “It’s your
clitoris. I like to call it your clit. Would you like me to play
with it?”

“Noooooo,” she cried. She released her
breasts to grab his arms, digging her nails into his biceps.

He ignored her and pinched the tiny bud
without mercy. Blood rushed to the area, engorging her flesh in the
hot water. Her heartbeat thudded between her legs, centering in a
place that had never received stimulation.

“I hate you,” she whispered, closing her eyes
to his knowing gaze as he plucked and tortured her clitoris. She
jerked against him. A moan tore from her throat when his head
dipped and his kissed her collarbone.

The situation was escalating out of control.
She felt her fierce resistance to him slipping out of her
reach.

“Please,” she begged.

He nibbled her collarbone, sweeping his
tongue across her wet flesh as he evoked immense pleasure from her
core. “Please what? Continue? How about if I touch you here?” he
emphasized his question by rubbing his thumb across her clit and
moving a finger to her tight hole.

“My lord,” she said, choking on the words as
he fingered the hole with a thick digit.

He glided his free hand up her back,
eliciting a myriad of sensations within her as he pressed her
closer against him, until her breasts met his chest. His sun
darkened skin made a heady contrast to her light, creamy skin. His
dark eyes were heavy with sensual promise as his hunger rose
inside. He lowered his heavy lashed lids halfway, looking drunk
with passion.

Her nipples pebbled under the unfamiliar
sensation, the heavily muscled, rock hardness of his chest crushing
against her.

Was this the moment when she would lose her
innocence? She could feel her virtue slipping away from her, and
she was powerless to stop it.

His fingers worked on her center as his
closed his hand at the hair on the base of her skull. He tugged at
her hair, arching her head back. She moaned at the erotic bite of
pain along her scalp.

“Would you give in to me, now?” he asked,
heavy lidded, rubbing her sensuously.

“No,” she whispered, continuing her
resistance.

“I could end your suffering and give us both
great pleasure,” he murmured, pulling her hair harder, making her
meet his eyes when she would have looked away in shame. “You cannot
deny your response to me. How easy it would be to impale you. You
would enjoy it, I promise.”

“I would not,” she said, feeling the lie burn
her throat.