Chapter 9 Derek
Derek
The door latch clicked, and Derek’s gaze flew to the entrance of the salon. He didn’t bother hurrying in pulling up his smalls. He had a nice arse, so really whoever was about to enter was being blessed with a gift.
A slight blonde came flying into the room, caught sight of him, and pulled up short. Wide, round eyes locked on him.
Big. Blue. Eyes.
The new addition to his list.
Grinning, he adjusted his smalls and stood tall, taking full advantage of his imposing six-foot-one-inches. How fortuitous.
“Well, well, well…” he drawled, dropping his voice low. “What do we have here?”
The muscles in the woman’s throat contracted as she swallowed. She took a small step back but then paused. Held her ground.
Interesting.
He slowly prowled forward and perused her figure.
What had appeared a simple, yet elegant gown across the ballroom revealed itself to be an inexpensive one, and by the look of it, a poorly altered one.
This chit didn’t come from money. She was tall and thin, with the slightest curve to the hips.
It wasn’t easy to discern in her flowing gown, but based on the turn of her hips, her legs looked as long as the ivy crawling up his country estate. He could work with that.
He cocked his head. Modest bosom. Nothing to set ink to parchment over.
She stood proud, shoulders back, chin lifted, emphasizing her swan-like neck.
His mouth watered. Now that neck…that neck was delicious.
She had no idea she was a gazelle who’d just wandered into the lion’s den.
He would sink his teeth in and revel in her scream.
She looked so innocent, so pure. He’d glory in teaching her the truth of this world.
He was almost upon her now, and she had yet to move.
Frozen in fear, his gazelle. His gaze fell to her lips.
Bloody Christ. Those were the lips of every man’s darkest fantasy.
Pillowy clouds of pale pink rose, their fullness emphasized against her thin, delicate face, her dainty nose, and prominent cheekbones.
He knew exactly what lips like that were meant for.
His gaze flicked back to hers, and he forgot to breathe. Her eyes were a force, sucking him in like a riptide—both blue, both dangerous. It must be a sin to have eyes that large and blue. Oh, how he wanted to sin with her. See them pool with lust.
He slowly reached out and brushed a golden curl behind her ear, lingering on that soft silk tress.
She inhaled sharply. Her hair was twisted back into a simple coiffure, with small ringlets framing her face.
No fancy lady’s maid for her. It didn’t matter; she required no adornments.
She was so light, so pale, so fragile compared to his darkness and hardness.
What would it take to break her? The devil inside him purred.
He had to have her.
He traced his fingers over her jaw, so delicate beneath his fingertips. A slight frown marred her brow. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
Lady Torrington had served as a delicious first course, but now that dessert had walked in on its own accord, he found he wasn’t even close to satiated.