Page 31

Willow shoved those questions aside, determined to have this magnificently wicked moment.

He roamed his hands over her back, pressing her to him, the hard ridge of his arousal pulsing against her bum.

She wasn’t shocked and wouldn’t pretend maidenly shyness. This wild, sensual, wonderous exploration was likely all she’d ever have with him.

He brought his palm around to cup her cheek, holding her mouth fast as he ravaged the depths. And she met him stroke for stroke, awkward at first, but soon learning the erotic rhythm.

This was madness. Sweet, delirious, blissful madness.

He pulled his lips from hers, trailing heated, wet kisses over her cheeks, across her jaw, down her neck to nip at her earlobe.

She moaned again, throwing her head back, permitting him easier access. Wanting more. Needing more. Needing him. Only him.

One big hand cupped her breast, and she started before sinking against him as splendid sensation burst through her. She’d never known it could be like this between a man and a woman. This all-consuming desire to be with him.

With Ansley and no other. Ever.

“Willow. My beautiful, precious, Willow. I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman. Say you’ll be mine, my darling.” He pressed his hot, open mouth against the pulse frantically beating at the juncture of her throat and collarbone as he plowed a hand into her hair. “We could be so very good together.”

There were no words of love. Only of passion and desire. Of want and need. Of lust.

No false promises of a future together.

And as much as she yearned to yield, Willow could not. For if she gave herself to Ansley, she’d never be able to leave him. And it would destroy her to watch him marry another. A woman of his station. The mother to his children. As she knew he must.

He might make her his mistress, but never his wife. And she wasn’t meant to be a mistress. She would never be content to lurk in the background, always waiting for a few stolen moments.

Besides, what happened if he tired of her? Or, God forbid, she bore a child? Children?

No. No. No. Never.

She would not subject any children that might occur as a result of such a union to scorn and contempt. Children were innocents, and it was the adults’ responsibility to make decisions to protect them, not subject them to ridicule and shame.

Nevertheless, in this current maelstrom of emotion and sensation, she longed to give herself to him more than anything she’d ever desired. More than she wanted to teach. More than she wanted to return to America.

She wanted him.

Oh, God. How she wished she could succumb to the effervescent, bewitching desire throttling through her. Urging her to submit. Demanding blissful satisfaction. Yes. Yes. Allow yourself this.

No. She could not.

Some women might be able to cast aside their self-respect, dignity, and self-worth for love. For she did love him. Achingly, all-consuming, and irrevocably. But she wasn’t one of those women.

Willow had seen the consequences when a woman gave all of herself to a man who wouldn’t make a commitment. She’d vowed a very long time ago to never sacrifice her soul unless the man she loved, willingly did the same for her.

A crystalline tear slipped from her eye. Then another.

Ansley, my only love.

She would never acquiesce. Passion and desire weren’t enough. Not for a woman like her. This was goodbye. Had to be farewell.

She must leave.

Now.

Before she gave herself to him and all was lost.

At once, Ansley sensed the subtle change in Willow.