Pleasures of the flesh were so much simpler. There was nothing complicated at all about the ways two bodies could fit together. First there was need, then release. She liked drawing it out, making the battle last longer so that the surrender was sweeter. She also liked rushing in, no holds barred, barreling straight toward the goal.
But she was getting ahead of herself. This was just a kiss, nothing more. They could both walk away, unscathed, whenever they pleased.
She was sure of it.
14
Had Stephen thought he no longer hungered for human contact? That was because it wasn’tpeoplehe needed. His hunger was for one specific person. The strawberry-flavored, sword-wielding berserker in his arms.
It had been hard not to turn into a berserker himself, the moment Miss Wynchester had grabbed and kissed him. He burned to hold her, squeeze her, devour her. Rend her garments asunder. Toss the table aside. Make love in the middle of the floor.
He liked her strength and adored her decisiveness. There was no wondering whether a kiss would be welcomed. A kiss was demanded. Five kisses, ten, a hundred. She did nothing by half measures. Not when knocking on a door, and certainly not when letting her desires be known.
Stephen had thought he could conceal his own desire. Hadtriedto hide. He’d spent a lifetime crafting a shell around himself, so deep and so safe that he’d believed no one would ever penetrate his defenses without his invitation.
Miss Wynchester had come swashbuckling in, and she was anything but safe. Everything about this kiss was dangerous. Their bodies were powder kegs, and each stroke of their tongues another spark of flint.
He cupped her face, then slid his fingers into her hair. Her skin wassoft and her blond curls silken, but that was not why he did so. He was desperate to keep his hands in somewhat safe territory. A kiss was not permission to explore her curves as he yearned to.
But even her ringlets were not safe. His fingers twisted in the soft curls, his palms holding her head in place as though to prevent even a single kiss from escaping. As though each brush of her mouth was precious as rubies and ephemeral as bubbles rising to the surface of the sea to disappear into the sky overhead.
A passing fancy, he told himself firmly. Of course he wanted to kiss her—who wouldn’t want to kiss her?—but that was all this was. Just lips against lips, tongue against tongue. Pieces and parts that would not amount to emotions he need fear.
Miss Wynchester had not penetrated his defenses at all. His heart was still tucked safely behind its shield. He’d merely taken a step outside into the light to breathe in the fresh air.
That he was happier in this moment than he’d felt in ages was not to be examined. Of course she made him feel more alive.Shewas unabashedly, overwhelmingly, gloriously alive. Kissing her was like wrapping his arms around the molten sun. He melted more with every touch.
Like the sun, radiant Miss Wynchester was a fiery ball of energy Stephen should not allow himself too close to. He was Icarus, with wings made of wax. He could only hope the shell around his heart was made of sterner stuff. If he allowed feelings to become involved, later, when Miss Wynchester eventually left, the shields protecting him would be as chipped and scarred as the castle’s front door.
Then again, if he kept his wings fully intact… if he reinforced them, grew them, strengthened them, flew far away… then he would not be able to experience kisses like this one. He would not know the taste of her mouth, the scent of her hair, the feel of her skin. The terrifying euphoria of soaring far too high.
It was the landing he feared. The knowledge that what flew up… inevitably came crashing back down to earth.
With regret, Stephen forced himself to break the kiss before he fell too far.
The next morning before dawn, Stephen successfully avoided the threat of romance by busying himself managing his cousin’s affairs, rather than risk being present in the dining room the same time Miss Wynchester descended to break her fast.
It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to kiss her again. It was that hedid.
He was not proud to admit that when he’d finally lifted his lips from hers, he’d fled into the safety of his murderous machines rather than risk another moment in the charming company of Elizabeth Wynchester. Returning her to his arms was the last thing he needed and the only thing he wanted.
The memory of how her mouth had felt, and the thought of tasting it again, had kept him tossing and turning all night without his imagination allowing a single respite. At dawn, he’d thrown himself into his press-ups and other vigorous exercises in the hopes of burning off the residual tension.
What he needed was to concentrate on something else, anything else, besides the tantalizing prospect of kissing Miss Wynchester anew. They were puzzle-solving treasure hunters, not fated lovers. Embraces would lead nowhere. He had no interest in changing his ways. Any hope of romance was doomed before it began. Therefore it was much more logical to turn his brain to tasks upon which the future really did depend.
Bells tinkled overhead, startling him from thoughts about ElizabethWynchester. He hurried up to his turret, where telescopes faced in every direction. It didn’t take long to find the source of the alarm.
Reddington’s men were down below, crawling around the exterior of the castle like ants.
Today, the soldiers weren’t in their usual red uniforms but dressed in browns and grays. Whether they thought this would fool Stephen or help them to blend into the early morning light, he couldn’t say. Their efforts at disguise were wasted. He could clearly see each of their faces through his magnifying lens.
This must be some sort of scouting mission. The front door was devoid of a knocker—or a handle—making it a poor choice of entry, so the soldiers were understandably searching for an alternative way in.
They wouldn’t find one.
Stephen watched in amusement as they surrounded the castle, feeling the cold gray walls and tapping softly on ancient stones. The only other entrance was through the exterior trapdoor in the rear of the property above the dungeon.
Several of Reddington’s men were standing on the precise patch of moveable grass right now, though they did not realize it. Lucky for them. The hinges could only be unlocked from inside the castle, when triggered via a lever Stephen had installed up here in the turret.
