Her eyes searched his.“And if I don’t?”
He opened the door and carried her inside.The lamplight was creamy and warm.He laid her on the bed carefully, as though she were something fragile and not the source of the tension tearing through him.The bronze fabric rode up her thighs when she shifted.
Magnus stood beside the bed for a moment and looked at her.She looked young. Inexperienced. Aware of him in a way that made his body tighten.He removed his jacket, then his tie and shirt, and finally his trousers until he stood in only his boxer briefs. His movements were intentional, giving her every opportunity to stop what was coming.
Her gaze followed his every move. “You’re looking at me like you’ve already decided something.”
“I have.”He stepped closer and reached for the hem of her skirt.
She went still.
“Tell me,” he said. “Doyou want this?”
Her voice trembled, but she didn’t look away. “Yes.”
The word hit him harder than he’d expected.
For a moment Magnus didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, standing beside the bed, looking down at her as if the single syllable had altered the ground beneath his feet. He’d expected hesitation. Questions. Perhaps evenfear.
Instead, her answer had been straightforward, but it hadn’t been reluctant. The tremor in her voice wasn’t refusal. It was awareness.
His gaze moved over her where she lay against the dark sheets, the bronze skirt drawn tight from where she’d twisted slightly beneath him. The fabric of her blouse traced the fullness of her breasts, while the skirt traced the shape of her waist, the curve of her hips. Her hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink, and her eyes—wide, steady, watching him—held a kind of fragile courage he hadn’t anticipated.
She knew what she was saying yesto.
Or at least she thought shedid.
That knowledge tightened something deep in his chest. Not doubt. Not regret. Something far more dangerous.
Responsibility.
Magnus reached out and brushed his fingers lightly along the side of her knee where the hem of her skirt had ridden upward. The contact was brief, almost absentminded, but it made her inhale sharply. He noticed the reaction immediately.The way her fingers tightened slightly in the bedspread. The way her throat moved as she swallowed.
He watched all ofit.
Because part of him still needed to be certain.
“Say it again,” he insisted.
Her brows drew together. “Why?”
“Because I want to hear it when you’re looking at me.”
She hesitated for a heartbeat, searching his face as though trying to understand the demand behind the request. Then she lifted herself slightly on her elbows so she was closer to him, closer to eye level.
“Yes,” she said again. “Please, yes.”
This time the words landed differently.
Not fragile.
Certain.
He climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifting beneath his weight as he braced his hands on either side of her shoulders. For a moment he simply looked at her. The lamplight caught in her dark hair where it haloed around her. Her breath came faster now, lifting her chest in small, uneven rises, and the sight of it tightened something low in hisgut.
He dropped his head and kissed her again, deeper this time. The first kiss had been restrained. This one wasn’t. His mouth claimed hers with a hunger he’d been holding back all evening, the self-control he prided himself on thinning with every second her hands remained on him instead of pushinghimaway.
She answered him immediately.
