“Like you are burning.” He braced one hand on the shelf beside her head, his arm creating a barrier she couldn’t pass.“Like you cannot breathe. Like you’d rather fight than walk away.”
“Edmund is kind.” She spat the words, her eyes flashing with defiance. “He is gentle. He would never behave with such insolence. He would never...”
“He would never set you on fire.” Dominic finished for her, his focus dropping to her mouth with a hunger he didn’t bother hiding. “He would never make you feel alive.”
“I don’t want to feel alive.” The words tore out of her, ragged and desperate. She shoved at his shoulders, her palms meeting the unyielding wall of his chest. “I want to feel safe. I want peace. I want...”
“You want what you cannot have with him.” He crowded her against the shelf, the soft flour sacks yielding at her back while his body remained hard and hot against her. “You want someone who sees the fire beneath all that armor. Someone who is not afraid of it.”
“You know nothing about what I want.” She turned her face away, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps.
“I know you haven’t stopped thinking about me either.” His mouth hovered just above hers, his warmth ghosting over her skin. “I know because I see it in your eyes, in the way you look away.”
“You are delusional.” She whispered the insult, though she didn’t pull back.
“Am I?” His breath brushed her lips, teasing the sensitive skin. “Then why is your pulse racing? Why are your hands shaking? Why do you look at me like you cannot decide whether to run or?—”
“Or what?” She lifted her chin, refusing to cower even as her knees threatened to fail her.
“Or this.” The words were a mere vibration against her mouth.
He kissed her.
She should have pushed him away. She should have screamed or brought her knee up hard. Instead, as his mouth moved over hers with a hot, demanding hunger, her resolve shattered. His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the contact, pressing her into the shelf until she felt every rigid line of him through her muslin dress.
She kissed him back.
Her hands fisted in his wool coat, dragging him closer. Her mouth opened under his, hungry and furious, while he let out a low, desperate groan that vibrated through her very bones. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him until there was no space left.
A flour sack tumbled from the shelf beside her head, bursting softly and coating the floor in white dust. Neither of them noticed.
His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips to lift her onto the edge of the shelf. More sacks shifted and fell as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He stepped between them, the rigid length of him straining against his breeches as he pressed into her. His hand found her ankle beneath her skirts, sliding up her calf and over her knee with agonizing slowness.
She should stop him. Should shove him away, slap his face, remind him who he was and who she was.
His fingers traced along her inner thigh, and every logical thought in her head turned to smoke. “Tell me to stop.” His breath was scorching against her ear. “Say the word and I shall walk out that door.”
She said nothing. She simply tilted her pelvis toward him, opening wider.
“Nell.” His expression was wrecked as he pulled back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving. “I need you to say it. Yes or no.”
“Yes.” The word ripped out of her. “God help me. Yes.”
His fingers found the slit in her drawers, discovering the slick, aching heat of her. She bit down on her own hand to keep from crying out, her eyes fluttering shut.
“So wet.” A dark growl escaped him as his fingers slid through her folds. “Is this for me?”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think. His thumb circled the bundle of nerves at her center, and her whole body jerked in his arms.
“Answer me.” He pressed harder, rubbing slow, maddening circles. “Is this for me, Nell? Or do you get like this for your kind, gentle Edmund?”
“I hate you.” She whimpered, her hips rocking instinctively against his hand. “I hate you so much.”
“I know.” He slid a finger inside her, and her back arched off the shelf. “But you are going to come for me anyway.”
He worked her with devastating skill. One finger became two, stretching her and crooking forward, yet his thumb kept up its relentless rhythm, driving her higher and higher.
“Look at me.” He gripped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “I want to see your face when you shatter.”
