Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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It had taken every shred of Josephine determination to tell Hero to stop, and her resistance crumbled when his heated mouth made magic on her breast. She arched against him, no longer able to remember why she had wanted this to end, for she had no will beyond desire.
He pulled the strap of her shift off her shoulder and began kissing her other breast, this time on her naked flesh rather than through sheer fabric. Feverishly she stroked his bare back, her hand digging into the flexing muscles. His fingers traced a burning path to the secret place between her thighs. When he touched her intimately, she moaned and rolled her head back and forth, for she had no words for the fierceness of her response.
Deftly he caressed the moist folds, spreading and opening her. Then she felt a hard, blunt pressure, slow but inexorable. Instinctively she knew that he offered the completion her body craved, and she moved upward against him, welcoming the weight of his body.
Then pain struck, tearing her so fiercely that desire vanished. Feeling that she was being ripped apart, she pushed frantically at his shoulders. "Stop!"
He froze, his weight supported above her, his face ravaged as he stared at her. The hard shaft that pressed against her throbbed menacingly as if determined to thrust forward of its own will.
As pain and panic pushed her beyond thoughts of morality and revenge, she begged, "Please—no more."
For a moment the outcome hovered in the balance. Then, the tendons in his arms standing out like steel bands, he lifted himself off her, swearing viciously under his breath.
Relief was instantly followed by shattered confusion. Dear God, how could she have allowed this to happen? She pressed her wrist against her mouth, trying to contain the bitter shame that swept through her. Sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind.
Knowing that she was a hair's breadth away from hysteria, she pushed herself to a sitting position and pulled her shift down to cover as much of her body as possible. Hero had folded onto the floor, his head bent forward so that his face was invisible. His hands were locked around the opposite wrists and he was shaking as badly as she was.
She looked away, guilt stabbing her as sharply as physical pain had a few moments earlier. Even at her most angry, this was not what she had intended. She had wanted to teach a lesson, not ravage both of them.
After inhaling deeply, Hero said with bitter humor, "Your imitation of a pious schoolmistress isn't bad, but you're a 'damn' sight more convincing as a teasing bitch."
The tears she had tried to contain broke through and she began to weep with gut-wrenching misery. Hating herself, she gasped, "Don't stop there. I'm not only a bitch but a spiritual fraud, a hypocrite. For a few moments I wanted to be a fallen woman, and I couldn't even get that right!" She buried her face in her hands. "I wish to God I had never been born."
