Dont Tempt Me (An Erotic Short Story)
Trade Paperback March 25, Lynette Baillon watched the notorious Simon Quinn with similar shamelessness, admiring the raven blackness of his hair and the brilliant blue of his eyes. He looked both leisurely and alert, a dichotomy she had noted the first time she saw him riding through the moonlit Parisian streets. Tonight he was dressed in somber shades of dark blue and gray, a combination that created an understated elegance she found extremely appealing.
Amid the flagrantly sensual theme of the intimate gathering—candles scented of exotic spices, chaises cleverly hidden by a faux forest, and servants dressed in revealing costume—he was austerely attractive. His quiet intensity was far more alluring than the deportment of those who cavorted in blatant rut. For her part, she was dressed in white for effect, her skirts accented with rich cream-colored bows and silver thread. Combined with her pale skin and hair and the dark ruby red of her half-mask, the ensemble drew all eyes toward her.
- Buy the Book?
- Cosmopolitan: Bad Boys Confess!
- Don’t Tempt Me;
- Don't Tempt Me.
- Don't Tempt Me — Loretta Chase.
They had never been introduced. He stood on the fringes, alone. Coveted by the women and shunned by the men for the exact same reasons— he had only his reputed expertise as a lover to recommend him and no title, property, or moral compass to redeem him. The widowed baroness enjoyed shocking society, which explained his presence.
He was a novelty and appeared to be comfortable in that role, but Lynette felt a strong pull to join him, to stand beside him, to enter the solitary enclosure he occupied.
Quinn was a tall man, and a big one. His jaw was strong, his nose a blade. Boldly winged brows gave him a hint of arrogance, while long, thick lashes added a touch of softness. To her mind, however, the most alluring part of his rugged handsomeness was his mouth. The lips were perfect, neither too full nor too thin, and when they curved in a smile—as they were doing now—they were irresistible.
Don’t Tempt Me by Sylvia Day
She wanted to lick them, nibble on them, feel them move across her bare skin. Your passions run high, your blood hot. Pray you do not succumb to it. Her blood felt hot now. Her chest lifted and fell rapidly in response to his stare. That a stranger could incite such a response in her despite the crowd that surrounded them and the distance separating them only acerbated her reaction. His long legs ate up the space between them, his pathway direct and unconcerned with those who were forced to move out of his way.
She inhaled sharply, her palms dampening within her gloves. When he reached her, her head tilted back to allow her to gaze upon his face and fully appreciate its savage beauty. She breathed him in, becoming intoxicated by the combination of tobacco and musk. The primitive scent was delicious and she fought the insane urge to lift to her tiptoes and press her nose into his throat.
Without warning, he caught her elbow and pulled her away from the wall. She was so startled by his importunateness that she was unable to voice a protest. At least that is what she told herself. A man whose polished exterior encased raw masculinity.
See a Problem?
He led her through the crowd and down a hallway, opening a closed door and pushing her ahead of him into it. The interior was dark and, for a moment, she was blinded by the dearth of illumination after the blaze of the massive ballroom chandeliers. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the softer moonlight spilling in through the windows. When she could see, she stepped further into the large, liberally furnished library.
The smell of leather and parchment teased her nostrils, reinforcing the sensation of being primitively claimed. The door latch clicked into place and she jumped, her nerves stretched too thin.
Don't Tempt Me by Dawn Atkins
The sounds of laughter and music faded from her perception, leaving her aware only of Quinn and the fact that they were alone together. She appreciated having the light behind her, which shielded her features in shadow while revealing the whole of his. So… he knew who she was. Her mother had insisted they hide their identities. They stayed with a friend instead of at their own property and were using an assumed surname. Her mother said it would prevent her father from becoming angry with them for deviating from their stated destination—Spain. She would have agreed to anything in order to come to Paris.
In all of her life, her family had never visited here. But then… If Quinn knew her true identity, why would he pull her away from the festivities in such a public manner? What was he talking about?
She would have asked if he had not placed his hands on her. No man had ever been so bold as to accost the daughter of the Vicomte de Grenier. She could hardly believe Quinn had done it, but she could not jerk away because the sensations elicited by his proximity stunned her.
He was so hard, like stone. She could not have expected that. As her breathing quickened, she felt herself sway into him, her chest pressing into his. He was a stranger and he seemed to be angry. For a long, taut moment Quinn did not move. Then he yanked her toward the window, impatiently pushing the sheer curtain aside so that moonlight touched her face. With a tug of his fingers, he untied the ribbons of her mask and it fell away, leaving her exposed. She suddenly felt naked, but not nearly naked enough. She felt a reckless, goading need to strip off every article of clothing while he watched.
It was heady to be the focus of such heated, avid interest from so handsome a man. A huge fuck-around of mistaken identity, sexy times, confused characterisation, and impressive cockstands. When a story has multiple characters with names begin with the same letter, I have trouble telling them apart. That was the ONLY difference!!
I swear, I had no idea who was who even when I had put the book down. Lynette Baillon yes, I had to check it was the right one has lived a privileged life with her family in Poland.
However, tragedy befell her when her sister died in a horrible carriage wreck two years ago. Her daughters were all she had. So when her mother decides to make a trip to Spain, she begs to make a detour to Paris.
And her mother relents. The courtesan then convinces Marguerite to allow Lynette to attend a scandalous party and, strangely enough, mother relents. What follows is a huge fuck-around of mistaken identity, sexy times, confused characterisation, and impressive cockstands. He was loyal to a fault and had this big, brawny Irish persona that normally works super well for me. And there were glimpses of it but since he entered into a life of spying and subterfuge after the first book and he was leaving that life behind at the beginning of this book, it was almost as though I missed out on a huge part of his life.
I felt this way about Lysette as well the twin, not the heroine.