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Read this special
unedited scene from
The Care & Feeding of Rogues
Elise was driving him mad. Prospero beckoned her with a crook of his finger, needing her to come to him because if she sat in that chair a moment longer, taking prim little notes about him undressing he would go utterly wild with the need to strip her clothes off and teach her about a man’s instincts.
“Come here, little naturalist and study me,” he commanded when she looked at him with those wide innocent brown eyes. He knew she was vastly intelligent, it was quite clear from their conversation at dinner, but she was innocent of men. In that moment, he knew truly what his mission was, to teach her everything about men and to instruct her in the ways that a man could please a woman. He was well versed in seduction and love-making, and for once he wanted to use it for his own pleasure by seducing this clever, beautiful creature. And he wanted to do it because she needed him to show her that learning about the opposite sex couldn’t be done at a distance and kept completely scientific.
She needed to feel what he felt, the raw lust, the potent desire that wove spells over a person’s body, heart and soul which made the eventual lovemaking all that more intense. He knew she wouldn’t fall in love with him, he was not a fool, but if he could show her what she truly needed to know about passion, it would be a gift between them, not simply as a repayment for her providing him a means of income for a short time. No, he wanted to do this because he genuinely liked her, and deeply desired for her to know what pleasures a woman deserved to experience with a man. There was more to love than logic and science could ever explain. He would show her what magic lay in twilight kisses and soft sliding bodies in the dark.
Elise moved at his command to come to him and when she was close enough to touch, he grasped her right hand and raised her palm to his smooth, shaven cheek. He’d shaved before coming over this evening out of his usual habit, since none of his Parisian widows had liked a beard or mustache.
“Feel that?” he whispered. She nodded, eyes wide and luminous. “Smooth skin is often preferred by ladies when they wish to be kissed. A man grows a night beard toward the evening if he shaves early in the morning and some women do not like to feel that scratching their lips, cheeks… or other places.”
“What happens when it is rough?” she asked. She truly was innocent. Had this woman ever been kissed? If she had, it must have been some pathetically chaste peck, otherwise she would know what he meant about roughness. They really should educate women more, because exploring things like this made it difficult for a man to behave.
Her fingers remained on his cheek as she continued to study him critically. Her touch made him burn in the best way. It had been such a long time since he’d felt this deeply maddening desire for a woman.
“Well?” she prompted, and he struggled to remember what they had been discussing.
“Yes, well, when a woman is kissed by a man who hasn’t shaved recently, she can get rubbed a little too vigorously and her skin can become sensitive to it. I’ve heard a few ladies call it beard burn.”
“Is that why you have no mustache?” she asked. She blushed a soft color of persimmon. “To avoid giving ladies… beard burn?”
He was aware mustaches were a fashion of the day in London, but had no interest in them.
“In part, yes, but trimming and maintaining a mustache takes time and effort.”
She squinted a little, as if trying to guess how he might look with one.
“Would you be interested in seeing me grow a mustache?” He teased, but she took the question seriously.
“Perhaps in the second week of our study?” She still had her palm up on his cheek and she traced his cheekbones and then the light of his jaw with her fingers. “So, you’ve already shaved?” she asked.
“Yes, just before I came here.”
“Oh…” She looked disappointed. “I would like to see you shave in the morning to see how it’s done.”
“You’ve never seen a man shave?” he asked, more curious about Elise than she could possibly guess. It was clear she’d never been kissed, or at least, kissed properly, and it was unlikely she’d had any close encounters with men and their lives. Perhaps that was the true reason for her studying them, to fill this gap in her worldly understanding.
“No. I live with my father, but I’ve never had any occasions to see him perform his morning or nightly rituals such as shaving.”
“I suppose that makes sense. It is a rather intimate thing. Likely only his valet or your mother would have seen him do it. When I was younger, my valet used to shave me, but it’s been years since I’ve had a servant for such tasks.”
She lowered her hand from his cheek but he caught her wrist in both of his hands, warming her chilly fingers by rubbing them between his hands. It was something he did without thinking. He’d grown used to taking care of women in the smallest of ways. It was why he’d been so popular in France. He knew what a woman needed, not just what she wanted.
Women were strong creatures, so strong that they often went entire lifetimes without their needs fulfilled, however big or small. He’d found joy in being a man who gave them what they needed, from hours of exquisite lovemaking, making them a cup of tea, or setting up a picnic in the sunshine with their favorite books and treats ready for them.
He studied her brown eyes, enjoying that insatiable curiosity that shone in their depths. What did Elise need? She craved knowledge. She wanted to understand him. She sought the keys to unlock his mind, perhaps his very soul. To his surprise, he found that he wanted to give them to her.
“Shall I continue undressing for you?” he asked, his voice softer, deeper.
She nodded as he released her wrist, then he pulled the shirt off before he tossed it to the floor.
A little gasp escaped her, and she covered her mouth with one hand.
She’d never seen a man’s bare chest before, at least not up close like this in the flesh. He was also aware that his muscled form was quite attractive to most women, even those who buried their adorable noses in books. The only thing that marred his skin was a dark knot of scar tissue where Aaron Jackson’s bullet had torn through him. But her eyes didn’t linger there, she was too overwhelmed by the rest of him.
“I assume you studied the musculature of humans?” He allowed himself to flex a little as he reached for the buttons at the front of his trousers. Her throat worked and she swallowed hard as he undid a single button. Very good. She was as affected as he was by the intimacy of this moment.
“I... yes. I’ve studied the human form and anatomy.” Her gaze lowered to his chest again he moved cautiously toward her. “I’ve seen statues in museums of course and I once visited a mortuary and was able to witness an autopsy but this is…different,” she admitted as though baffled.
“You may touch me, Elise. I am no marble statue in a museum behind a velvet rope. Explore me, study me however you desire.”
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