She gazed at him solemnly. “I want to see.”
Christ.He hated the pounding anxiety he felt. It angered him, his wounded vanity. The fire had taken Patrick’slife; what right did Cull have to mope over his damaged looks? Yet he flashed to the memory of Nan packing up her bags, her gaze avoiding his freshly disfigured face as she did so.
It was never going to work, Cull. You always put those mudlarks first. What ’appened to you…it’s just more o’ the same. I’ve ’ad enough o’ peril, poverty, and ugliness. I ain’t signing up for a lifetime o’ that wif you.
He didn’t blame Nan, but he resented his own weakness. Resented the way his hands hesitated before reaching up to untie the strings. The way he took courage from the dimness of the carriage—from the fact that the shadows hid, to some degree, the full extent of the damage.
He removed his mask and met Pippa’s gaze squarely. Dared her to look away—to not look away. Dared her to pretend that he was anything but what he was.
Her gaze was steady, her voice a bit husky. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“May I touch you?”
He gave a curt nod, and she reached up. He held miserably still as her touch feathered over the undamaged side of his face first, her thumb sweeping over his eyebrow, cheekbone, her fingers trailing along his jaw. She repeated the motion on the other side, his throat tightening as the same light caress now traveled over gnarled ridges and patches of unnatural smoothness. Despite his dulled sensation, he felt as if she were stroking the very heart of him, the place where hope refused to die. Where his dreams waged an agonizing battle with reality.
“I pictured what you looked like, you know.” Her voice was as gentle as her exploration. “How the lad I met fourteen years ago had matured into a man.”
“Not what you expected, am I?” he said humorlessly.
“No.” Her gaze was direct and, thank Christ, devoid of pity. “You are far more. And you are not ugly, Cull.”
It was so bloody stupid that he should care. That he should feel a burning at the back of his throat and an even more embarrassing surge of gratitude. Those feelings grew when Pippa leaned up and kissed him, right on his wrecked cheek.
“What you are is noble and brave.” Even though he couldn’t feel her whisper against his skin, it fed his deep, hungering hope. “And that is real beauty.”
Her sweetness undid him. He yanked her onto his lap and crushed his mouth to hers.
17
Pippa wound her arms around Cull’s neck, opening herself to his kiss. To him. This man who wore a mask not because he enjoyed being a mythic, mysterious figure…but because he thought he needed to. To hide himself when his injury, the cause of it, made his true beauty shine as brightly as a star.
Removing the mask stripped away a barrier that had stood between them. She felt their new intimacy in his kiss, in his plundering hunger. No one had ever kissed her like this, with such animal need. With such raw and honest passion. It made her feel wanted and wanton; she wanted to kiss and kiss him. To give him anything he asked of her and take everything in return.
Cull stroked her mouth with his tongue, his taste filling her senses. Curling her fingers in the rough silk of his hair, she tugged him closer. Until there was no space left between them.
His sensual chuckle heated her lips. “What a demanding chit you are.”
She stilled, Longmere’s words mocking her.Suchforward behavior is unbecoming of a lady.
“Is that a problem?” she managed.
“Hell, no. I want you greedy for me.” Cull’s scorching honesty vaporized her doubt. “I want you panting, moaning, begging me for more.”
If his words didn’t convince her, then his actions did. He pulled her back against his front, his lips finding her ear. At the first hot lick against the sensitive curve, her spine bowed.
“I love how responsive you are,” he murmured. “How you don’t hide your reactions from me.”
Would it be possible to contain what she was feeling? She didn’t think so. When he dragged his lips down her neck and back up again, sheknewshe couldn’t hold back. Didn’t want to. She moaned as he flicked her earlobe before taking it into his mouth. The warm suction pulled her nipples into hard, throbbing points. An accompanying pulse started between her thighs, where she was already slick with need.
Arching against him, she clutched his rock-hard thigh. “Oh, Cull, I need…”
“You’re so sweet when you beg.”
At that, she turned to give him a narrowed-eye stare. His mouth took on a lopsided curve. It was a teasing and oh-so-sensual smile, and she wondered how he could ever think himself ugly. How he could believe that his scars could be the sum of his attractions.
“I never beg,” she said primly.
