The words landed like a slap and he closed his eyes against the sting, against the desperate hope trying to claw its way through years of carefully constructed walls.
“You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t?—”
“Then show me.” She pressed closer, her forehead touching his. “Show me who you really are.”
He kissed her.
Not the desperate, out-of-control kiss in the forest. This was something else entirely—a confession and an offering. He kissed her with everything he had and when she kissed him back with equal fervor, he felt something inside him crack open like a dam breaking.
He tried to pull away as the reflexive retreat that had protected him for so long kicked in, but this time, she didn’t let him.
Her hands fisted in his hair. Her body pressed closer. She made a sound against his mouth that was part demand, part plea, and when he tried again to break the kiss, she bit his lower lip hard enough to make him growl.
“No,” she said firmly.
One word. Absolute.
“You don’t get to run this time.” She was breathing hard, her eyes fierce in the firelight. “You don’t get to kiss me like this and then disappear. I’m not afraid of you, Tarek. I never have been.”
“You should be.”
“Maybe.” Her grip on his hair loosened, her hands moving to cup his face. Her thumbs stroked the line of his jaw, a gentle, grounding touch that made his chest ache. “But I’m not. So stop trying to protect me from yourself.”
He couldn’t answer. All the carefully constructed justifications, all the reasons he needed to keep her at arm’s length, crumbled to dust under the steady weight of her gaze.
“Show me,” she said again. “Please.”
This kiss was slower, deeper. A deliberate exploration. He poured everything he couldn’t say into it—the longing and the fear and the desperate, dangerous hope. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, and when she opened for him, he swept inside, claiming the taste and the texture and the soft sigh that escaped her throat.
His hands were everywhere—on her back, her hips, the curve of her waist—pulling her closer, fitting her more firmly against him. She wriggled in his lap, a movement that sent pure heat rocketing through him, and he realized with a shock that she was wearing nothing beneath the borrowed shirt.
He pulled back, breathing raggedly. “Jessa?—”
She answered by taking one of his hands and guiding it beneath the hem of her shirt.
His fingers brushed against the soft skin of her stomach, and she shivered. He slid his hand upward, tracing the delicate lineof her ribcage, feeling the frantic beat of her heart beneath her breast. Her skin was impossibly soft. Warm. Alive.
“You’re sure,” he said, the words a gravelly rasp. He had to be sure. He had to give her one last chance to run.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” She nipped at his jaw, a sharp, playful bite that made him growl. “Now are you going to touch me, or are you just going to talk about it?”
A challenge. He’d never been able to resist a challenge.
He cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, the peak hardening against his touch. She arched into his hand, a silent demand for more, and who was he to deny her?
He shifted her in his lap, settling her more comfortably, and then his mouth was on hers again while his other hand came up to tangle in her hair, holding her in place for the onslaught. This was not a gentle kiss. This was a claiming. A promise of everything to come.
Her hands weren’t idle either. They’d moved from his shoulders to his chest, exploring the hard planes of muscle through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her clever fingers found the hem and slipped beneath, tracing patterns on his skin that made sparks dance along his nerves.
More,his beast snarled.We need more.
He broke the kiss long enough to pull the shirt over her head, baring her to the firelight. For a moment he simply looked. She was all soft curves and pale skin in the flickering glow, her breasts small and perfect, her nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze.
“Tarek…”
