“She shouldn’t have to manage.” Louise’s voice was barely a whisper. “She’s only six. She’s already lost so much.”
“So have you.”
Louise tilted her head to look up at him. The firelight caught in her eyes, turning green to gold. They were so close he could see the individual lashes framing those remarkable eyes, could count the freckles scattered across her nose.
“We should sleep,” she said, but she didn’t look away.
“Yes.” He didn’t look away either.
The fire crackled. The wind howled. The world outside had disappeared into white chaos, leaving only this room, this fire, this woman in his arms.
Aaron told himself to release her. To stand up, to put distance between them, to remember all the reasons this was dangerous.
Instead, his hand rose to cup her cheek.
Louise’s breath caught. Her lips parted.
He bent his head. Their lips met.
Louise’s mouth was soft, hesitant, inexperienced—and utterly intoxicating. Aaron’s hand slid from her cheek to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in the pins that held her hair. She made a small sound against his lips, something between a gasp and a sigh, and he swallowed it whole.
She tasted of snow and courage and something essentially her. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his coat, not pulling, just holding, as if she needed an anchor in the storm they’d created between them. He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse where his thumb rested against her throat, could feel the tremor that ran through her body as he deepened the kiss.
He’d meant it to be gentle. Controlled. A single moment of weakness, he could walk back from.
But Louise kissed him back with a tentative hunger that undid him completely. Her lips parted beneath his, welcoming him, and Aaron groaned low in his throat as he gathered her closer.
The blanket slipped from her shoulders entirely, pooling at their feet. He felt the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her gown, felt the press of her body against his chest, and whatever remained of his restraint began to crumble.
“Aaron,” she breathed against his mouth.
His name. NotYour Grace. Notthe duke.
JustAaron, spoken in a voice roughened with want.
Something broke open inside him.
He kissed her deeper, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other still tangled in her hair. She arched into him, and the movement pressed her breasts against his chest, soft and warm through the layers between them.
Aaron’s blood turned to fire. He pulled her into his arms, caging her there with his body, his mouth never leaving hers.
Louise gasped at the contact, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair. The tentative touch sent sparks cascading down his spine. He tilted her head back, changing the angle of the kiss, and swept his tongue against the seam of her lips.
She opened for him without hesitation.
His hand found the curve of her waist, the swell of her hip. Even through her gown, he could feel the heat of her skin, could trace the shape of her body beneath the fabric. She shivered under his touch, and the small tremor undid him further.
He wanted to feel her without barriers. Wanted to trace every freckle he knew must be scattered across her shoulders. Wanted to discover what sounds she would make if he kissed his way down her throat, across her collarbone, lower still.
“God, Louise.” The words escaped against her lips, rough and reverent. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Her answer was to press herself more fully against him. The movement brought her hips flush with his, and Aaron hissed at the contact, at the way her softness cradled the hard evidence of his desire. She stilled, eyes flying open, and he watched understanding dawn in those green depths.
He should step back. Should apologize. Should put distance between them before this went somewhere neither of them could return from.
Instead, he kissed her again, deeper than before, one hand sliding up her ribcage to rest just beneath the swell of her breast.
She whimpered into his mouth, and the sound shot straight through him, pooling hot and urgent at the base of his spine. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her body melted against his.
