“Callum, I am sorry. I never meant… I just thought…”
He threw the cup of wine aside in a swift, powerful movement. The cup shattered against the opposite wall, leaving a red streak dripping down the stone, the spilled wine puddling at the base. He strode toward her, coming close enough that she could feel his warm breath tickle her forehead. A finger curled around her chin, forcing her gaze away from the broken cup and up toward him.
Callum stared down at her, brow furrowed, jaw set. A muscle throbbed in his cheek.
“Ye thought what, lass? Nae afraid of me, are ye?” he breathed. “Are ye still so brave? What are ye thinkin’ about at this very moment, let me ask ye that. Thisverymoment. Nay lies, nay pretense, just truth.”
She swallowed, her eyes darting across his face. His hair flopped forward over his brow, hanging in his eyes. She longed to push it back. More than that, a tension was forming in her stomach, tight and determined. Sensation flooded through her limbs, vague and blurry enough that she could only call it ‘sensation’, a rough, ordinary term that did not seem to explain what she felt.
“I was thinking that it’s a terrible waste,” Melody murmured at last, holding his gaze. “A waste of perfectly good wine.”
Surprise flickered across his face. He let out a reluctant huff of laughter. The pad of his thumb slid across her chin, and she couldn’t quite decide whether the movement was deliberate or not.
“Ye are goin’ to be the death of me, lass.”
He released her chin, leaving the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. Resisting the urge to run her knuckles over the place he’d touched, Melody swallowed, refusing to look away.
“I only want to know you, Callum. That’s really all it is.”
He shook his head. “Be careful what ye wish for. If ye kent me, truly kent me, ye would hate me.”
“Why would I?”
“It’s just the truth. I ken ye prefer to ignore established facts for as long as ye can, but it’s true. Ye daenae want to ken me, believe me.”
“Well, can I not decide that for myself?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s have a wee recap here. Ye are nae afraid of me, and ye want to get to ken me better, despite all ye have learned about me. Is that correct?”
She cleared her throat, lifting her chin. “Yes, it is.”
“Do ye ken what that tells me?”
“Enlighten me.”
He leaned forward until the tip of his nose nearly brushed hers.
“It tells me that yer instincts are truly terrible.”
He didn’t lean away. He stayed close, his face inches from hers, his scent overwhelming her. She swallowed hard, her mouth drying up.
“Worse than you think,” she whispered, and kissed him.
Melody could not have said what spurred her forward, or whether the terrifying events of that night had given her a madman’s sort of courage. Either way, she pressed her lips against his with a determination and desperation that he must surely taste.
He gave a surprised grunt, low in his throat. Melody had fully expected him to pull away, or perhaps to pushheraway.
He did neither.
Strong arms wound around her waist, pulling her tight against him. His body was firm and warm, and something shivered in her. His palm flattened against her spine, pressing her chest and shoulders against him.
He took charge of the kiss almost immediately, pressing forward and tilting his head. His lips were warm and soft against hers, a counterpoint to the scratch of his stubble. The hot point of his tongue ghosted against her lips. Melody gasped, her lips opening. He delved inside, a warm and thrilling intrusion that made her legs shiver more than she should. The pulsing insistence in her chest had drifted lower and now throbbed between her thighs. What did that mean? What did shewant?
The wall knocked against her back, startling her out of her reverie. Had Callum pushed her back, or had she wandered away? No, she couldn't have moved on her own, not with her legs turned to jelly.
He broke the kiss, moving back only an inch or two. Melody stared up at him, her breath catching in her throat. His arms had disappeared from around her waist. She wanted them back. Why couldn’t he touch her again and hold her tight against him? There was something thrilling about the pressure of his body against hers, something that tugged at thewantinginside her that would not quite go away.
“Och, lassie, what on earth are ye doin’ to me?” he mumbled, his voice a hoarse rasp that she could barely catch. “Ye make me want to… to…”
