Page 21 of Against the Wind

“You told your brother the guest room…?”

“Yes, well, that was for Nick—and for your honor.” He stopped a foot in front of her.

“You cannot stay here.” Even as Kit said the words, she realized how absurd they sounded. It was his home after all, so she added, “With me.”

“Why not, Kitten?” He stepped closer. “We have already shared a bed. We have made love.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “And I am hungry for you.”

Kit felt her cheeks warm. A shiver ran down her spine, and she backed up. “That should not have happened.” She twisted her hands together at her waist and stared down at the floor, reminded of their passion and also of her shame. How could she have made love with him that night knowing how wrong it was? Worse, how could she want him again?

He closed the distance between them, his blue eyes staring into hers. She was suddenly very aware of him as a man. Tall, handsome and lithe, he smelled of brandy and that masculine scent that was his own, perhaps exotic sandalwood. It was the same scent she’d smelled on his coat, and it brought back more memories of their night together. Standing so near, she could feel the heat radiating from his chest.

Taking his coat from her shoulders and tossing it on the bed, he lifted her chin with his curved finger. “Perhaps it shouldn’t have happened, Kitten, but it did. And there is something between us you cannot ignore.”

His voice was low, a seductive lure drawing her in, reminding her of how she had come to him so willingly once before.

“No,” she said, shaking her head as if saying the word could make it true, could erase their night of passion. She was not that woman. But she could not deny the things she had done with this man. The things she wanted to do again.

“Is making love something you do not wish to do?” he asked. “As I recall, you seemed to enjoy it as much as I.” Then, more tenderly: “Besides, I have missed you, Kitten.”

“No, I cannot. I am not your…your…” She could not bring herself to say the word. Their one night together had been a wonderful, amazing and, yes, passionate experience, but it could never happen again. She had escaped one dreadful night into a dream. Into his arms. As much as she wanted his arms around her again, wanted to lie with him, she could not allow it. This was not who she was. Not who she was raised to be.

Placing his hands on her waist, he pulled her against him. The heat from his broad chest overwhelmed her as she tilted her head up to look into those stormy indigo eyes now dark with desire.

“You opened a door, Kitten, I’m unwilling to close.”