If only he weren’t so imposing.
If only he weren’t so tall, and so outrageously handsome.
And if only she hadn’t just seen him naked. Dear God, it was no time to think about that! Her heart was hammering so loudly she wondered if he could hear it.
His arms were crossed as he watched her move infinitesimally closer. “I don’t have all night.”
She scowled at him. This wasn’t easy for her, blast him. Straightening her shoulders, she wiped her hands on her skirts and closed the distance between them.
She stopped about a foot away.
His mouth curled with a smile that made her feel like a plump, juicy lamb. “I won’t bite,” he said, and then so softly that she wondered if she heard him right added, “Unless you want me to.”
Her eyes flew to his. But although he was still smiling that wicked “come closer if you dare” smile, his meaning and thoughts were indecipherable.
Good Lord, it was hot in here! There was a sheen of perspiration on her brow, and her skin felt as if it were fevered.
The tension between them was so thick she couldn’t breathe. Although there might be another explanation. Maybe she was scared to inhale because she feared his scent would wash over her and penetrate her senses again, confusing her.
He had to realize how nervous she was, yet he just stood there watching her with that inscrutable, impervious, annoyingly calm expression on his face. She felt a strange twinge of sympathy for her brother, recalling how many times Thom had used the same expression on him. It was how he’d fought back. How he’d defied his lord without doing so outright.
Was that what he was doing? Fighting back with indifference? The flare of anger gave her just the burst of courage she needed.
She was making more out of this than there was, she told herself. It was only a kiss. She could do this.
Putting both of her hands on his chest to brace herself, she lifted onto her toes.
But she still wasn’t tall enough. His mouth was still a few inches away, and clearly, he wasn’t going to make it easier on her by lowering it.
Blackguard!
Pursing her mouth, and bolder now with anger, she slid her hands around his neck, stretched against him, and dragged his head down to hers.
Their lips met in the softest, most delicate brush. The shock that ran through her, however, was not. It was jolting. Nerve flaring. Heart-stopping.
She almost drew back. But his body was warm, and despite being so hard, it was remarkably cozy, and the spicy scent of whisky on his breath was strangely intoxicating, drawing her in for more.
Hehadtold her to make it good.
9
EIGHTEEN YEARS. THOMhad had to wait almost eighteen fucking years for her to kiss him again, and damned if it wasn’t worth it.
The sweet press of her lips to his cheek that she’d given him as a child in gratitude for rescuing her from that tree, however, was nothing compared with the sensation of her very grown-up, very sensual mouth brushing against his. The kiss was still sweet, but his response—and the yearning that surged through him—was not. It was about as far from sweet as it could get. It was raw and primitive and intense, blinding him with a white-hot bolt of lust that reverberated through his body like a thunderstorm.
A thunderstorm he had to fight to contain. His hands were planted firmly at his sides, every muscle in his body flexed and rigid with restraint. Restraint that had been burned in over years of wanting what he could not have.
You can’t touch her. She’s not for you.
Words that were so ingrained in him that even now, even now when her mouth pressed against his more firmly, when her body rubbed against him innocently and invitingly, when she made a soft sound in her throat that practically begged him to respond, he didn’t.
Bloody hell, it was almost as if he was scared to touch her. Scared that maybe the rest of the world was right—maybe he wasn’t good enough. Scared that putting his rough, callused hands on her would somehow mar all that creamy perfection. And most of all, scared that after so many years of holding back, his passion, once released, would be impossible to contain.
His restraint infuriated him. He didn’t need to stop himself anymore. Why shouldn’t he kiss her, damn it? There was no one to stop him. No one to tell him he couldn’t have her.
He’d been waiting for this for too damned long. Waiting for her to come to him, to recognize what had always been between them, and to show her exactly what she’d forsaken.
No more holding back, damn it. He started out slow, as if testing whether his body would follow his mind’s command.Put your hand on her waist.Gentle, damn it. Don’t bring her in too tight. Move your other hand up easy. Cradle her head.
