Page 35 of For The Love Of A Widow

She pivoted and retrieved her candle from the floor in the closet before turning to face him once more. She needed to collect her thoughts—as disjointed as her mind was—and say all that must be said. This may very well be her final chance.

“If you insist on friendship, I cannot stop you, especially with my parents aligned with you, but know that I have nothing else to give you. I do not belong here. I am not the debutante and well-raised woman I once was; the female my parents are determined to make me once more. She is dead. Buried in a grassy plain far away under a sapling. Please, I beg you.” She inhaled deeply. “Please, do not expect anything more from me…I am incapable of it. I have nothing left to give.”

Lettie focused on him in the dim light, scared of what she would see, but needing to show him—and herself—that she was many things, including aware of her flaws.

He stood quickly, and Lettie feared he’d leave without another word.

It would be for the best. It had to be this way.

But he closed the distance between them and pulled her against him forcing her to hurriedly put the candle down. He settled his lips against hers. Shock stiffened her back, and she pushed at his chest, though with little conviction.

His kiss…their kiss…it was…

Demanding, yet soft.

Insistent, but not punishing.

His hand settled on the back of her neck, holding her to him as if he tried to pass his strength on to her.

Did he not realize it was her remaining strength that allowed her to speak her mind, no matter how much it had hurt them both?

Her traitorous body softened and melded against his, fitting perfectly to his contours.

It only increased her awareness of his attraction.

Daniel’s arousal pushed against her belly as his tongue darted out and slid across her bottom lip, severing their connection.

It was unlike any kiss she’d experienced before, holding more passion than she thought possible for any one person. And it all came from him—she had no desire or passion left within her.

Before this moment, Lettie was resigned to never know the passionate embrace of a man again.

As her will to push him away receded, her hands slipped around his back and pressed him to her, determined to take all he had to offer…

The consequences and disappointment be damned.

In his arms, their lips joined, she was not a broken woman. She was not living in her tragic past.

She was only Lettie.

A woman worthy of a man’s embrace.

This man’s embrace.

CHAPTER 15

Their kiss was everything Daniel had thought it would be, though it should not be happening now, in bedchambers, with only a small candle for propriety, and a gown already unfastened. His hands itched to pull the dress from her body. Bloody hell, he’d wanted this since seeing her standing alone in The George. Their time in the grove had almost undone him. Blast it all, he’d wanted this moment since he was old enough to understand what the stirring in his trousers meant, or that the emptiness in his chest was when Lettie was not near.

She could not deny how well they fit against one another. Even now, he could hear their hearts beating as one.

Lettie’s resistance subsided quickly and her arms locked around him, pulling him closer as their mouths danced. It was not a parry and thrust. It was not two people moving toward opposite goals. It was a complete union, both physical and emotional.

He had no designs on her wealth, her lands, nor did he have any thoughts to possess her—without the proper band nestled on her hand. He wanted all of her—mind, body, and soul.

They were always meant to be in this position: their bodies locked together as tightly as their lips, her arms encircling him as she caressed his back, and his need pressed securely between them. Lettie felt her way across his corded back, his skin flaming in each place she dragged her fingers across.

Daniel allowed his hands to roam where her shift-covered back was exposed by her undone gown. He longed to move his hands down and unfasten the remaining buttons, pushing the gown from her arms to puddle at her feet. He wanted this—needed this—however, something kept his desire under control.

If he let go and she succumbed during their moment of passion, he’d prove himself to be everything he’d begged her to believe he wasn’t.