Maia's heartwas still racing, her skin still felt too hot, and that warmth low in her belly remained.
She felt ashamed.Ashamed of her body's response to him, ashamed of the desire that had flared to life despite everything he'd done. Mollie was dead, and here Maia was, her skin still tingling from Ewan's nearness, her lips still parted as if waiting for a kiss that would never come.
What's wrong with me?
But she knewwhat was wrong. She'd read enough books to recognize it, even if she'd never experienced it herself before.
She wantedhim to kiss her.
9
"Seein' ye so feisty makes me want to punish ye, lass."
The words cameout as a low growl, rough and dangerous in the quiet room. Ewan watched Maia's grey eyes widen, watched her breath hitch, watched the way her pulse fluttered wildly in the hollow of her throat.
He should step back.Should return to his chair and let her sleep. Should put distance between them before he did something they'd both regret.
But he didn't.
Instead,he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper that seemed to wrap around them both like smoke. "Break ye until ye cannae remember yer own name. Until the only word on yer lips is me name and pleas for me nae to stop."
Maia's breathcame faster now, her chest rising and falling beneath the thin blanket. Her eyes were huge in her flushed face, pupils dilated until only a thin ring of grey remained.
She should tellhim to back away. Should remind him that she was his prisoner, not his plaything. Should show some sense of self-preservation.
But she didn't.
And that lack of fear,that defiant tilt of her chin even as desire darkened her eyes, snapped the last thread of Ewan's control.
He reached out,his hand cupping her jaw with a gentleness that contradicted his words. Her skin was soft beneath his calloused palm, warm and impossibly smooth. He could feel her trembling, not with fear, but with something else entirely.
"Tell me to stop,"he murmured, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. "Tell me to walk away, lass, and I will."
Maia stared up at him,her lips parted, her breath coming in short gasps. She should say it. Should demand he leave her alone. Should remember that he was her captor, that he'd killed her friend, that nothing good could come from this.
But the wordwouldn't come.
Ewan tookher silence as answer enough.
He closedthe remaining distance between them and captured her mouth with his.
The kiss wasnothing like the gentle, tentative brushes Maia had read about in her books. This was raw and demanding, a claiming rather than a request. Ewan's lips moved against hers with practiced skill, his beard rough against her skin, his hand tightening on her jaw to angle her head exactly where he wanted it.
For a moment,Maia froze, shock stealing her ability to respond. This was her first kiss, and it was happening with a man who'd kidnapped her, in a rented room at an inn, while she wore nothing but her shift.
It was wrong.All of it was wrong.
But then Ewan'stongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing them open, and Maia's thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.
She kissed him back.
It wasinstinct more than knowledge, her body responding to his even as her mind screamed that this was madness. Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there, and she opened her mouth beneath his questing tongue.
The sound Ewan made,half growl, half groan, sent heat rushing through her veins like wildfire.
He tastedlike dram and something sweet, which made her head spin. His hand moved from her jaw to tangle in her hair, tilting her head back further, deepening the kiss until Maia couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel.
His other handcame to rest on her waist, his palm burning through the thin cotton of her shift. She could feel every callus, every ridge of scar tissue on his warrior's hands. Could feel the barely leashed strength in his grip as his fingers flexed against her, pulling her closer.
