“That’s not it,” he says, and his tone is so firm I can’t help but believe it’s true. Not to mention he can’t lie. “I see you clearly, Astrid.”
The confirmation nearly fills me with panic, but my desire is still too strong to allow anything else to remain present for long.
“And you are desirable,” he says, tone hungry. Yearning.
“Then why—”
“Because I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.”
“Then trust me when I say I want this.” I hold his gaze, but the longer our eyes lock, the more resolute his expression becomes. The less desire I see in his eyes. Anger heats my blood, mingling with my arousal. I don’t know whether I want to hurt him or seduce him. The latter urge wins out. Slowly, I part my robe to reveal a hint of skin and run a finger down my center from my neck to my stomach. There I splay my palm, my lashes fluttering at my own touch. “Either put your hands on me or leave. This is happening with or without you.”
His fingers curl into fists as his eyes lock on the palm pressed over my abdomen. I move my hand lower, delighting in the widening of his eyes, the way his body surges forward the slightest inch.
Then—before I know it—he’s gone.
Gone.
The slam of the door rings in my ears.
I blink at it, frozen in place. My heart sinks with guilt. Shame. I hadn’t meant to drive him away, only to…to…
Oh, no. What did I do? What had I been thinking acting so bold with him? I’d been so enraptured by my own yearning for pleasure, by my awakening attraction to him, by my unexpected fantasy of his touch, that I hadn’t had the presence of mind to remind myself he doesn’t feel the same. He said I was desirable, but what does that mean? He could have said it to flatter me, evading the fact that while he may be able to state I’m desirable, he can’t say I’m desirableto him.
I cover my face in my hands and release all my embarrassment in a muffled moan. My desire shrinks until it’s barely a ball of heat lingering in my belly. I take a step back, ready to sink onto the bed and possibly disappear forever.
Then the door clangs open just as loudly as it had closed.
Torben’s eyes lock on mine, chest heaving. On swift feet, he strides back into the room, gathers me in his arms, and presses his lips to mine.
27
ASTRID
My desire returns in a flash, hotter than it was before. My need to be touched and caressed ignites over every inch of my skin as Torben pulls me against him. He lifts me to my toes as I wrap my arms around his neck. His mouth is hard, unyielding, and I part my lips to allow our kiss to deepen. His tongue sweeps against mine, warm and eager. I arch against him as his hands move from my back to my bottom, then under my thighs. He hoists me off my feet, and I hook my legs around his waist. A moment later, I feel the mattress press against my back. My mind takes a fleeting turn to wonder where the kittens might be, but I hope they have enough sense to leave us alone for the time being.
Then my thoughts are fully taken by Torben. By the sensations tingling over my skin, warming my core. He hovers over me, but only part of his weight presses against me. My need for touch only grows, and I know then that I want more of him. All of him. My hands wind behind his neck, tangling in his hair. I shift my body to bear more of his weight, trying to express how much of him I need. He pulls his lips from mine, and I fear he’ll break away and leave again. Instead, he studies my face. He runs a finger from my temple to my cheek, then down the column of my neck. A gasp escapes my lips.
His hand moves to the collar of my robe, still open but covering most of me. With agonizingly slow movements, he parts the fabric to the side, exposing my shoulder, then my upper chest, then the full curve of my breast. His gaze pauses there, drinking me in, before trailing back to my eyes. “You’re beautiful, Astrid.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I’ve heard that before. I’ve been told I’m beautiful more times than I can count, but never has that phrase been meant forme. It’s always been about another’s reflection.
But right now…
My magic is dormant. I know it is, by the absence of its hum. Torben canseeme.
And he thinks I’m beautiful.
I pull him back down to me, claiming his lips and arching my bare chest against him. I yearn to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, to explore the planes of his torso with my newly sensitive palms. Keeping my hungry lips locked on his, I let my hands trail over his silk waistcoat. He pulls back just enough to unhook the buttons and throw the article of clothing onto the floor. He wasn’t wearing a tie or cravat, so his shirt comes off next. My arms encircle his waist, and I pull him against me, delighting in the flex of his muscles against my palms. I run my hand down his spine while the other comes to the front of him. But as I cup his firm length, he freezes.
He pulls back and searches my eyes. Slowly, he reaches between us and removes my hand from the front of his pants. He pins my wrist over my head and gives me a light, teasing kiss on the tip of my nose. “No, Astrid,” he says, voice heavy. “Tonight I’ll give you only what you need and nothing more.”
I don’t know what he means by that. There’s one thing I do know, though. “But I want…that.” As I drop my eyes suggestively, I’m suddenly reminded of the first time I touched him there, when I retrieved the key to our handcuffs from his underbritches. It hadn’t been the right time to fully appreciate the girth hidden within his trousers, but I hadn’t failed to notice it either. Now I’m desperate to explore that which I once dismissed as only faintly intriguing. How have I ever been in his presence and not felt this fiery want?
He brings his lips to the corner of my mouth and plants another soft kiss. “If you still want more tomorrow, we’ll talk. Tonight is just for you.”
I’m about to argue that I want tonight to be for him too, but his next kiss closes over my lips. That’s all it takes to quiet all possible complaints. But it doesn’t stop me from trailing my hand down the front of him…
Again, he stops my hand. I grunt my disapproval, but he grips my hips in a way that has me gasping and turns me onto my side. He presses in close behind me and brings his lips to the back of my neck. Another sound leaves my lips, but this one isn’t disapproving at all. I shudder as he trails a line of fire over my shoulder. One hand snakes underneath me and cups my breast while the other parts my robe open further. His strong hands caress my side, my hip. I arch my backside into him, feeling him stiffen against me. I’m half in pleasure, half in a rage that he won’t just give me all of him now. Then his fingers skate over my hip and travel to my middle, pausing just at the apex of my thighs. I wriggle, needing his hand to move, to rove deeper. He chuckles into my hair, a devious sound that has me bucking against him.
