“I do not regret it,” he says. The words come rougher than before. “That is the problem. I pushed you too far too soon.”
The sky rumbles faintly in the distance.
I fold my arms over my chest. “What is that supposed to mean? I wanted you to kiss me.”
His restraint fractures for a second. I see it—the flicker of something fierce beneath the calm.
“You deserve more than to be pulled into something you do not understand,” he says.
“And you have decided that for me?”
Another rumble of thunder. Closer now.
His fingers flex at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for me.
“You do not know what you are stepping toward,” he says.
“Then tell me,” I challenge.
Silence.
The wind pushes harder, the scent of rain heavy in the air.
When he does not answer, something hot and wounded rises in my chest.
“Very well,” I say stiffly. “If this is some grand internal struggle you are determined to have alone, I will not interrupt it.”
I turn toward the open yard just as the first drop of rain strikes the dust.
“Ada—”
But I am already walking away.
The rain comes suddenly, sheets of it, drenching my hair and bodice within seconds. I make it halfway across the courtyard before I hear his boots pounding after me.
He catches my wrist, the force of it spinning me back into him. For a heartbeat, we simply stand there in the downpour, breath mingling, rain streaming down his face.
“This is exactly what I was trying to prevent,” he says, almostto himself.
“Then let me go. Do not toy with me. I do not deserve it.”
His grip tightens instead, and something in his expression changes. The careful control shatters, like the rain breaking through the clouds.
“Fuck it,” he breathes.
Then he kisses me.
A desperate kiss, as though he has been holding himself back for far too long, and finally stopped trying.
The storm breaks fully above us.
Chapter 29
There is no question in his touch this time. He pulls me in and slides his hand into my wet hair. Our lips meet in a soul-crushing kiss, as if we have been starving. My hands wrap around his neck, trying to pull him closer to me still. He obliges without a thought, sighing deeply, guiding me into his arms. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan. His touch makes my pussy start to throb.
For the first time, I allow myself to let my hands wander over his magnificent body, moving from his neck over his wide shoulders to his chest and lower still. My fingers slip to the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from the trousers, grazing his heated skin. He groans with pleasure, twitching slightly as I stroke my nails over his abs. His big hands find my ass, and he pulls me harder still against his erection. I nearly cry out, the friction torturing me in the sweetest way.
“We cannot stay here,” he half-says, half-moans into my mouth.
