She stood with the sheet wrapped high around her, water sliding down her collarbone and vanishing into the fold.
Neil’s jaw worked. He tried for steadiness but found only heat.
“So, that is what this is about?” His voice was quiet.
Not a challenge.Not yet.
“Ye want to do this again? Couldnae get enough of me last time, could ye?”
She peered up at him from beneath her lashes, her pupils dilating.
Neil stepped closer before he could think better of it. His fingers found the dip of her waist, the linen rough under his palms, the warmth of her skin almost burning through it.
The nearby candle guttered for a few seconds before it finally settled.
“Want me to get another taste, lassie?”
The words left him low and rough. He felt the rasp of them in his chest. He felt the smallest answer in hers, a sharp intake of breath that sounded like yes and no.
She did not step away.
He stood close enough to see the thin, damp strands clinging to her shoulder. Close enough to smell soap and clean skin instead of dirt and copper. His hands held her, firm and careful, asking the questions in his eyes.
He could lean in right now and take her.
He could claim her right there on the bed, and she would give herself to him. He knew that.
So why didn’t he want to? Why did a tiny voice at the back of his head keep repeating those two phrases?
Not yet. Not now.
Her mouth softened, and his breath mingled with hers. He bent his head, slow as if the air had thickened between them. Her lashes lowered and lifted. His eyes closed, then opened again because he wanted to see the exact moment her lips would part for him.
Heat coiled tight under his ribs. His thumbs stroked the sheet where it hugged her hips. He did not even mean to do it. He only wanted to feel that she was real.
Her forehead nearly touched his. One more inch. A breath. He could already taste the idea of her lips. He could already feel the first give of her mouth under his.
Kristen drew in a sharp breath and held it. Something in her went rigid, and she opened her eyes. The small sound in her throat carried more fear of herself than fear of him. She braced her hands against his chest and pressed on it. Then she stepped back.
It was one pace only, a slip of bare feet on the cold floor, yet it opened a space that felt wider than the room. The sheet tightened where she clutched it, and her eyes shone in the candlelight. Her mouth trembled slightly, before she pressed her lips together.
“Kristen—”
“I understand.”
“Nay, ye daenae?—”
“I do.” It seemed as if she had to carry the words up a hill. “This is new for both of us. I think we need time.”
“Time?” His voice came out rougher than he wanted.
His pulse throbbed at his throat. The space between them seemed to suck the air out of his lungs.
“Aye. Time.” She pulled the sheet higher like a shield. “I will sleep in yer tower tonight, if that is all right with ye. I daenae want to sleep in this bed.”
Neil stood still. The flames flickered. Water trickled from the rim of the tub and tapped the floor.
He meant to say something that would keep her in the room. He meant to say that he had not finished, that he did not want to stop at the edge of a thing they had both asked for with their bodies, whether they liked it or not.
