Broken Wing by Judith James Read Free Book Online Page B

tight breeches, could drive a man to distraction. “I’m not happy anywhere, mignonne,” he replied bitterly, trying to edge away from her. “What concern is it of yours?”
    “Is there naught we can do, Gabriel, to make you feel more welcome?”
    She was going to ruin everything. He wanted her, even though he was so sated and weary of sex that he usually had to distance himself from his body inorder to allow any arousal at all. He wanted her badly, in ways he’d never expected, and he hated her for it. “You can stop following me. You act like a bitch in heat,” he grated, suddenly incensed. Seizing her wrist in one hand and her throat with the other, he pinned her body hard against the wall with his own, grinding his hips, his throbbing cock hard against her stomach. “Is this what you want, mignonne?” She stood rigid, shocked, gasping for breath. Realizing he held her by the throat, he moved his hand to grasp her jaw, forcing her mouth to his in a brutal, passionless, punishing kiss. “It
is
what you want. You’re no different from the others. I can smell it.”
    Leaning into her, he loosened his grip and whispered in her ear, “I’m a whore, dearling, and you’re certainly paying me well enough. I’m as skilled at pleasing a woman as I am at pleasing a man. Some say better.” He teased her lobe with hot breath and fluttering tongue. “Are you wet for me, mignonne? Shall I show you what pleasure truly means?” Forcing her hand down, he rubbed it against the bulge in his breeches, stifling a groan. “I’m ready for you,
chére
. Feel me,” he crooned. “Shall we go to my room, or yours? Or perhaps right here, with your brothers just a shout away. Does that excite you?”
    He was right, damn him! She did want him. But not like this! God knew she’d thrilled to the feel of his body pressed hard against hers; his sex, potent and probing; his soft whispers and skillful tongue. To hershame and horror, she
was
wet for him. She hated him at that moment. She jerked her arm as if suddenly released from a relentless force, and pulled her hand away.
    He loosened his grip, steadying her so she wouldn’t fall, and let her go. He stepped back, breathing as heavily as she was. She looked at him, her hair disheveled and her mouth bruised from his kiss. Her eyes, full of unshed tears, were angry and unmistakably hurt, and he felt a brief stab of regret.
    “I was only trying to help,” she said coldly. Gathering her dignity, and what was left of her wits, she turned to climb the stairs.
    “Then stay the fuck away from me,” he rasped to her departing back. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He entered the music room and leaned against the door. Closing it behind him, he slid to the floor. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? Why did she have to plague him? She would tell her brother now. Huntington would make him leave, and make him pay. It would be best to go now, immediately. But where? There was no past he could bring himself to return to, no future he could possibly imagine.
    Climbing wearily to his feet, he helped himself to the brandy he’d left the night before, and made his way listlessly back to his room. A fire crackled in the hearth, bringing light and warmth to ease the late night chill. Tipping back his head, he took a healthy swig, hoping to warm himself inside. It couldn’t numb hispain, though. It didn’t even touch it. It remained raw and sore and throbbing, like his cock. He stroked himself, striving for comfort and release, trying to imagine her lying beneath him, warm and soft with welcome, but all he could see were her eyes, hurt and angry, and he felt sick with shame.
    Denied any release from alcohol or sex, he hurled the bottle against the wall, watching it shatter into myriad pieces of crystal, each one catching the glow of the fire, sparking scarlet and crimson with its own internal flame. Fascinated, he rose from the bed. Replacing the sacrificial brandy with a bottle of whiskey from the