India Grace, a respected journalist, is assigned to the estate for a behind the scenes look at how it runs. It is the last place in the world she wants to be. Back when she was young and naïve she took a photo of old Lord Mallard, which led to her success and his downfall. She carries the guilt with her to the location and it’s constantly in the back of her mind when she meets the hall’s latest owner, Xander Patrick.
Xander’s father died when he was only thirteen, and he doesn’t hold many good memories of him. He helped his mum build Mallard Hall back up, and since her death struggles to keep it going single-handedly. The last thing he needs is a meddling journalist poking into estate business, especially when the meager profits are mysteriously disappearing.
The two try to keep their distance but find themselves drawn together in many unexpected ways. A meal leads to an investigation of secret passageways and from that India and Xander explore their attraction, using different rooms of the hall for their kinky games.
In the end India’s secret will have to come out, but will it bring the couple closer together or tear them apart?
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of light BDSM and voyeurism.
Now for a little snippet from the secret passageways of Mallard Hall.
“Why those ones?” I asked. My voice sounded raspy even to me.
“Because the images of bare-bottomed women fed my own fantasies the most.”
I squeaked— unconsciously the sound slipped from my lips unconsciously and my cheeks blazed with heat moments after.
“Are you okay? Are you scared?” Xander brought his other arm around me, holding me closer, protectively shielding me.
I melted into his arms and pressed my lips to his.
“Not scared.” I gasped, pulling apart for breath. “Turned on.” I kissed him again and he eagerly responded, lips molded to mine, his hands wandering up and down my back over the deliberately provocative dress I’d chosen to wear and down to my thighs. My skin ached when he touched my flesh, and I arched my back to push more of me against him, pulling my lips from his.
“Thank fuck for that,” he said, nibbling along my collarbone between words, “because I am too.”
He pushed up my dress and traced along my thighs to the slight lacy knickers beneath. Grasping at the material of his shirt as the coil of desire tightened in the pit of my stomach, I waited for his next move. His lips stilled on my neck and his fingertips grazed the crotch of my knickers. I moaned and he pressed harder, the hesitant touch transformed by urgency.
“So wet.” He gasped, looking up at me until I captured his mouth with mine again, and as our tongues dueled, he explored over the stretched barrier of my underwear. Crooning and groaning against his lips, I shook against him. The mounting desire drove all worry from my mind. It was possibly the most stupid thing I’d ever done. The one person in the whole world I shouldn’t shag was the man pressed against me, and slipping his fingers into my knickers at that very moment. I didn’t care, I wanted him.
“I need to fuck you,” he growled. “Now.”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” I mewled, and although his fingers withdrawing from between my thighs was a disappointment at first, when he hooked them into the waistband and yanked them off me I giggled with delight. I pushed him back onto the bench with a bump and a slightly concerning creak of wood. He shook his head at me.
“Naughty girl.” He undid his belt, and I became fixated on his hands. The way he eased the buckle apart. “All this would be listed, if they knew about it. You’ve got to be more respectful of my property.”
“Yes, Sir.” I bit my lip as he flicked open his fly and unzipped his trousers.
“Come here and respect me,” he demanded and hooked his cock outside his pants.
I walked toward him, and he pulled me over to kiss him, encouraging my hips forward until I parted my thighs around him and knelt with knees either side of his, spread open for him, my skirt rucked up around my waist.
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