He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheeks. Her eyes closed on a shaken breath. That sound undid something inside him.
“You came,” he rasped. “Despite everything. Despite your plans, the convent, your mother, and me. You came because you wanted to.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Good,” he murmured.
He pulled her closer, his hand wrapping gently around her neck, and found her warm lips.
Whatever arguments had bristled dissolved the instant his mouth met hers. This was not the tentative exploration of earlier nights. There was heat in it, and frustration, and the sharp, heady relief of dropping a burden one had been carrying for too long.
Gwen answered him at once, her hands fisting in his coat, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. Her lips parted under his, welcoming the deeper pressure, the slide of his tongue as he sought and found the exact rhythm that made her shiver.
He felt her sway and moved his hands to her waist, steadying her. The warmth of her through her gown, the give of her bodyagainst his, sent his restraint flaring and buckling like a sail in sudden wind.
He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth along the line of her jaw, down to the hollow just below her ear. She drew in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening on his shoulders.
“Victor,” she sighed.
CHAPTER 14
The sound of her voice saying his name seemed to startle them both. It trembled in the air between them.
Something flickered in Victor’s eyes.
Before Gwen could look away, his hands came up, firm and warm, and cupped her face. He pulled her back to his mouth with a purpose that stole what remained of her breath.
The kiss was no tentative brush this time, no cautious exploration. It deepened at once, as if some invisible thread had finally snapped.
Heat flooded her. She had not known she could want anything so keenly. Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders to steady her, fisted in his coat, dragging him closer.
She did not know what she was doing. Her body simply acted of its own accord.
Her lips parted at the first coaxing stroke of his, answering him with a hunger that shocked her as much as it must have astonished him.
Her innocence, she discovered, did not mean she had no instinct for pleasure. It meant that every new sensation arrived without warning, unsoftened by expectation. Every slide of his mouth over hers and every stolen catch of his breath felt like the first step into a world she had not imagined could exist for her.
When he drew back a fraction, it felt almost like falling.
Her eyes fluttered open. His face was very near, the curve of his cheekbones stark in the firelight, his breath uneven. She saw the dark bloom of his pupils, the taut line of his jaw, and realized with a jolt that she was not the only one undone.
“This is not wise,” he warned, his voice hoarse.
“No,” she breathed. Her lips tingled. Her whole body seemed tohum. “It is not.”
“Should I stop?” he asked.
The question struck her like cold water. She knew what she should say. She ought to remember the convent and the rumors and the number of nights she had left before her banishment.She ought to think of sin and safety and every sermon she had ever heard.
Instead, she heard herself whisper, “No.”
The word cost her. She felt it leave her like a secret she could never take back.
Victor froze for a heartbeat, as if giving her one last chance to change her mind. When she did not, his eyes flashed, fierce satisfaction twining with the care already there.
He stepped closer, and she found herself yielding, moving backward under the steady pressure of his hands on her waist.
Each step seemed to ignite a nerve, until she felt fragile and feverish and wildly alive. When the back of her knees hit the edge of a chaise near the hearth, she sat down with a small, unsteady exhale.
