One Wicked Night by Shelley Bradley Read Free Book Online Page A

to celebrate life. She had followed him here to create it. She still wanted that, but she also wanted him—and knew that she should not. If she stayed, she would commit the sins of the flesh that had gained her mother such notoriety.
    “I should go. Besides, I would be ruined if anyone were to—”
    “Find out?” he finished for her. “No one need know that you comforted a grieving man, if that’s your wish.”
    He leaned closer, closer, until his lips touched hers. Serena inhaled a ragged breath and tried to remain stiff against his gentle possession. Yet she could find no will to resist. She wanted to know Lucien and his touch, and she craved the results their union could bring. Serena followed him into another intimate kiss that had her toes curling and her breath sawing out of her chest as she melted against him.
    “Stay,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms about her waist, molding her against the hard wall of his chest. “Please.”
    Serena’s insides turned heavy, fine-tuned by a throb winding its way through her to the intimate center of her body. His hand, with its seeking thumb, sought the sensitive tip of her breast. He rubbed it, creating a delicious friction against her areola, reviving the ache he had produced earlier. Instantly, her nipple hardened for him.
    He continued to kiss her, his mouth both clinging and demanding, while massaging the tight bud of her breast between his fingers. And those fingers were pure magic, casting a spell on her ability to reason, melting both muscle and mind into clay to shape as he pleased.
    His tongue scorched its way through her mouth like a hot blade, urging her to respond—and not giving up until she did. Hesitantly at first, then more boldly, her tongue soon met his in a wild, abandoned foray.
    Lucien left no part of her mouth neglected. He nibbled again on her lower lip, in the manner that had turned her insides to jelly in the carriage. And his hands.... Sweet mercy, those hands seemed to detect her aches, then intensify them. Even now, his palm brushed the juncture of her thighs. Her handkerchief slipped from her grasp to the floor. Before she could stop the sound, Serena moaned.
    He lifted his head, breathing ragged, pupils dilated. The need in his eyes, the desire branded on his face, singed her with another wave of want.
    Breath unsteady, he cupped her chin. “Stay. Tell me you want me as much as I need you.”
    What could she say that her traitorous body had not? Between short inhalations, she said, “Certainly you can see . . .”
    “I need to hear that you want to stay,” he said. “You’re the first person who has touched me at all, in months.”
    That admission hit like a blow to the stomach. Nobody had touched him for months? Cyrus was very affectionate, despite the fact that their relationship was not physically intimate. Rare was the occasion they met one another in a room and did not share a passing touch or glance. She couldn’t imagine Lucien’s isolation in having no one.
    “Why? You’re very handsome.” She cast a shy glance to the floor. “Certainly any woman you desire would fall into your arms.”
    She looked up to see a raw desperation in his green eyes that displayed the depth of his pain. One that tugged on her heartstrings.
    With an anguished frown, he shook his head. “No. But please say you’re falling into mine, sweetheart. Do not make me release you. Not yet.”
    Her heart flip-flopped. Everything within her wanted to comfort and reassure him; she was simply that type of person. She knew this situation, indeed this man, was dangerous. But he clearly needed her, and she realized how much she craved that.
    To soothe him, she placed her hand against his cheek. He turned his face a fraction to kiss her tender palm.
    Sending him a shaky smile, she whispered, “I . . . I’ll stay.”
    He pulled her forward, clutching her against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly about her. For long moments, he did not move, but simply