“But at the tavern you said–”
“To hell with what I said.” Three steps, and he was in front of her. Four, and she was in his arms. He grabbed her waist. Yanked her against him. Relished the quiver he felt go through her entire body. Craved the taste of her mouth like a man half-starved.
She tilted her head back. Her sooty lashes spilled across the tops of her cheeks, and then lifted to reveal blue eyes dark with smoke and sensuality. “Ravish away, my lord.”
Chapter Ten
Weston did notneed another invitation.
On a muffled groan, he crushed his mouth to Evie’s and kissed her with the wild, wicked abandon of a man who was biting his thumb at the devil…and didn’t give a damn about what consequences might come.
To hell with his vow.
To hell with yesterday and tomorrow.
To hell with anything that might keep him fromthismoment. From this woman. From this madness.
For that’s what it was. Sheer madness, to want someone as badly as he wanted Evie. But he didn’t care.
Tonight, he would. Tonight, he’d curse himself for his recklessness. Tonight, he’d drink, and brood, and make another vow. A better vow. Astrongervow. One that could resist this tumultuous storm raging inside of him.
But for now…for now, he was going to run straight into the rain.
Power and passion surged through him in equal measure when he backed Evie up against the barn wall, his arms braced on either side of her head as they devoured each other in a kiss that was raw, and primitive, and desperate.
He wanted, and so he took. She desired, and so she gave.
Their tongues tangled. Their teeth clicked. Their noses bumped.
It was messy and imperfect.
It was mania and impatience.
Combined, it was a tempest neither of them were able to control.
Evie’s hands streaked greedily across his torso, nails scraping against his flesh as she found the edge of his shirt.
Weston palmed her breasts, then rolled her nipples between his thumb and finger until she arched her spine off the wood, her soft belly pressing against his hard arousal.
He could have taken her there. Against the barn, or in the hay. It didn’t matter. He just wanted to thrust his throbbing staff into all that wet, clenching silk. And it wasn’t until he held her skirts in his fists that he fully comprehended what he was about to do. What hewouldhave done, if his common sense hadn’t come rushing back with all the subtlety of a train clattering down at the tracks at full speed.
“Jesus.” He dropped her dress before he staggered away, his breath whistling between his lips in a shocked exhalation of self-disgust. He’d been seconds away from taking Evie in a horse stable. On the bloody ground. Like a…like a rutting boar. No. Worse than a boar. The flea that fucked on the boar.That’swhat he was. A flea. And Evie, bright, beautiful, brilliant Evie, was…
Crying, he realized with a painful jolt.
She was crying.
And he was flea dirt.
“Miss Thorncroft–” Awkwardly he reached out, but she shoved his hand away.
“Don’t,” she choked before she fled past him out of the barn.
Stunned, he remained in the barn for less than five minutes before he went after her. After a quick search of the main house, he found Brynne in the dining room directing a small army of servants, but his twin had seen no sign of Evie.
“Losing a cravat is acceptable, Weston,” she chided. “Not a guest. What did you do now?”
His chest heaving, he scowled and said, “Why do you presumeIdid something wrong?
