“Yes, Jasha. I kept fighting until you came back to fix things for good.”
I stare at her gorgeous dark eyes, jet-polished stones with flecks of gold and stars. I kiss her again thoroughly until she’s about to swoon. Her hands tremble, then collapse about my neck.
I am ruthless in my touches. I know what she loves. I raise her hem and hunt for paradise.
“Wait. I have to tell you something, Jasha.”
“Oh, Mary, Moses, Lazarus, Abraham. What more haven’t you told me?”
Her hand is on mine, gripping my fingers. “I said I wished we’d never met. But that is the biggest lie. I loved you instantly, too, the moment you took my hand. Your touch has always undone me.”
The woman puts her cheek against my chest. Her body, every curve, heats my bones. I want to hold onto this dream.
I can’t.
I can’t move forward. Nor can I step away. That’s been the problem, my problem, all along.
A kitten mewls. The bookcase opens. Steele appears at the entrance. “Sorry to interrupt.”
I pull a disheveled, barefoot Katia behind my back. “Yes.”
“Livingston just returned with your mother and daughter. He wanted to speak to you before tonight’s dinner at White’s. Shall I send him into your study?”
Rubbing my flushed cheeks, I shake my head. “Tell him I’ll meet at White’s. I’m occupied.”
My man retreats. Taking the kitten. Katia didn’t object. The room closes up again.
“Well, Steele’s timing is good.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, he stopped us from declaring that we chose us again.”
“I don’t remember talking.”
Her dark eyes are larger, more dangerous than anything. I draw her forward. “Come on, Katia. Let’s go.”
“You’re walking away? But … I guess it’s your turn.”
“This will be the second time for me. At St. George’s, I shouldn’t have walked away. I told your father we were still married. I wanted to challenge your new vows. I’d win, but he said you were finally happy. How could I stop you from being happy? I won’t ever hurt you again, even if it kills me.”
“You’re scared, Jahleel. You’re never scared.”
“’Course I am. I’m dying for you. But not having you is killing me. Settling for you merely reading is a torture. But you’re here, and we are friendly. I’d rather have a piece of peace with you than nothing at all.”
I wave to her. “Now come. I can’t get out of this dinner with Livingston, but tomorrow, you and I and Lydia can—”
“Augh.” She stumbles. Those gorgeous long toes hit my bookcase.
Without a thought, I drop to my knees, rubbing and cradling her foot. “This little piggy is cold and red.” I blow warm air on my palms and massage each luscious digit. “Nothing seems broken.”
“No. I think we’re almost fixed.”
When I look up, she whispers, “Checkmate.”
With both hands claiming her feet, I resign myself. “Guess you remembered?”
“Scarlett would call this a fetish. But not until I saw this room did I fully remember how you loved my feet. I think of how we rode to the dacha—my shoes off, legs in your lap as your fingers wrapped about my soles. You were pained to let go, were you not?”
“I’m pained now.” I release her and tug myself up with mycane. Once at the opening, I pull the lever, then blow out the sconce and ready myself to step through. Except if I walk out, all these feelings for her must die. “I can’t move. Winner takes all. A new deal or bet, is that what you want?”
