Names held power. If she used his name, he would cease to be her enemy. He would become more. Far too much more. She pulled free of his grip on her chin, shaking her head. ‘I think not.’
He opened his mouth to dissent, but she pushed up on her toes and closed the space between them, claiming his lips and stealing his argument. He tasted of whisky and pepper and smoke in the forest.
He froze for a moment and then came alive. Taking over the kiss, he licked her mouth, his teeth scraping over her lips, his hard hands insistent as they ran down the length of her arms, encircling her wrists, lifting them above her head so her breasts thrust against his hard chest. She only wore a thin cotton nightgown, but he was still dressed in his dinner jacket, vest, shirt, and cravat.
He pulled away, holding her wrists tight in one hand as he untied his cravat.
‘You gave me the reins tonight, Clio. And I want you to call me Thomas.’
She lost all logical thought as he jerked his cravat free in tight movements, whipping the white silk away from his neck and snapping it. He looked above her head, searching for something. When his lips curled into a wicked smile, anticipation warred with apprehension. What had she gotten herself into?
I can ask him to stop. He will honour my command.
She knew this was true.
And if he does not, I will simply incinerate him.
Also true.
The fire cracked, sparks flying out of the hearth. He glanced over his shoulder as the embers flared from red to black before landing in sooty specks on the wood floor. He turned back to her, his black brow raised in censure. ‘Is this going to be a problem?’
She didn’t know. Her powers had never been so unpredictable. ‘No?’
‘If you burn down Blackthorn Manor with your witchfire before Lady Langley can seduce her footman, she will be most displeased.’
A giggle burst free before she could stop it. This man was a wonder. He could infuriate her, arouse her, terrify her, and amuse her all in the course of one evening.
‘Heaven forbid.’ She pressed her lips together to keep the laughter within.
‘Heaven has nothing to do with this.’ Grey let her wrist go and captured one hand, tugging her several paces to her right before positioning her once more against the wall.
‘What are you doing?’ Her unexpected burst of joy spun into something headier.
‘Do you trust me?’ He held the cravat up, then looked at her wrists.
‘In this?’
‘Just this.’
She nodded.
‘Then give me your hand.’
She hesitated. Could she do this? Give him her hand? Let him tie her? She had asked for this. Did she actually want it?
Yes.
When she held her hand out, something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. Slowly, carefully, as though her wrists weremade of glass and not flesh and blood, he wrapped first one, then the other. It was obvious he knew what he was about, and that caused a rogue wave of hot, wet need to wash through her.
His knots were loose enough they wouldn’t constrict her blood flow, but as he lifted her bound hands over her head, she realised what had caused his smile and why he shifted her to the left. An iron wall sconce with an empty candelabra wasn’t lighting the room, but Grey had found a better use for it. The decorative swirls were perfect for hooking his cravat, and it was high enough to force Clio onto her toes.
‘These older homes are so sturdy.’ Grey pulled experimentally on the sconce before securing her arms over her head and stepping back. Clio felt like a painting on the wall as Grey’s emerald gaze lit small fires wherever it touched her. Throat, breasts, belly, legs, and the shadowy patch between her thighs. ‘I should strip you naked.’ His tongue made a lazy swipe over his top lip as he assessed her. ‘Would you like that? To be on display for my eyes alone?’
An errant thought of Lissa flashed through her mind. Would he compare her with his wife? But as soon as it came, she pushed it back into the depths. Tonight was about Clio and Grey. No one else. She nodded her head in jerky movements. The heat building in her sternum licked over her skin. She knew she would be glowing in the dark room, but she couldn’t stop the power washing over her, reaching out in swirling reds and blues.
Grey’s eyes widened, but he didn’t step back. ‘Call me Thomas.’
She bit her lip and shook her head.
