The word floated around the two of them like a delicate thread, weaving something that could be broken all too easily.
Malum could have sent her away the first day she’d visited theDomus. But he had not.
Instead, he’d brought her home and she had followed him into the nursery. Then, he’d involved himself with her family—when he easily could have left it alone. He’d attended a ball to apologize, and after being discovered with her—alone—he’d allowed her to negotiate this ridiculous betrothal and all the details that came along with it.
He dragged his mouth along the shell of her ear.
He wasn’t kissing her. No, he was merely tasting her skin, which was little more than they’d agreed upon earlier. Proximity. Touches. The appearance of intimacy.
Her pulse fluttered beneath his mouth like a trapped butterfly.
Malum dragged his teeth to her shoulder, still clinging to his self-control.
If anything, she tasted better than he’d imagined—not all sweetness and perfume, but a little salty—a little musky. A familiar thrill shot from his mouth to his groin.
Step away.
But no. Not yet.
Her arms were around his neck, and as he trailed a decadent path, she gripped him even tighter.
Was this why he’d brought her here? Hell yes.
Only, he hadn’t meant for this to feel so… consuming.
Caution warred with desire. With each touch, he risked obliterating the temporary nature of their betrothal—a future she didn’t want. She was uninhibited, but she was also too damned innocent, and here he was, skimming perilously close to sealing both their fates.
This was reckless. Unforgivable. But still, he didn’t stop. He nipped at her skin.
Dangerous.
Malum locked one arm around her back, his other hand just below her bosom.
Melanie covered his hand with hers, not to stop him—but to guide him—to give him permission to complicate this even more.
Caressing her breast over her clothing was as exciting as it was frustrating. Still, he felt the pebbling beneath his palm. She fit his hand perfectly.
Malum was inviting chaos, an unfamiliar side of himself that he hardly recognized. It was Indulgent. Reckless.
Demanding.
His lips skimmed the ridge of her clavicle, that delicate hollow that whispered fragility and grace. Yet the sharp tug of her fingers in his hair told a different story—one of strength, urgency, and a woman who knew what she wanted.
And those pulling sensations at his scalp sent licks of pure want straight to his cock, already throbbing.
They were both fully clothed, in Hyde Park, and yet here he was, on the verge of losing control. He would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so baffled by it.
By her.
Hell and damnation. One small woman was taking him apart piece by piece.
Malum barely registered his surroundings, save for the faint awareness that anyone positioned across the lake could be watching.
Unless he backed her into the trees, where they’d be more assured of privacy, he was going to have to put a halt to this.
Into the trees they must go.
The need to abandon all reason and do unspeakable things, to taste every inch of this woman, was overriding his better sense all too easily.
