He waited for argument, plea, protest. But she was silent. Clearly, she’d recognized her quest to seduce her oaf of a husband was futile.
He told himself that what trickled through his veins like acid was relief. She must at last see he was no use to her. It was tragic but irrefutable.
He reached for the door. Through unfocused eyes, he noticed his hand was unsteady.
There was a sudden flurry of footsteps behind him. Then a blinding, exquisite moment when she hurled herself, every lovely inch, against his back.
The shock stopped his breath. His heart hitched, then crashed against his ribs. Her heat made him dizzy. The softness of her breasts and belly pressed into him. Her arms snaked around his waist.
“Don’t go,” she said in a broken voice.
She leaned her cheek upon his back. The fragrances of carnations and warm female flesh filled his senses like smoke. He closed his eyes and groaned. Swearing under his breath, he banged his head on the door. The sharp pain did nothing to clear his mind.
His skin prickled at the contact, but sexual hunger drowned out his screaming demons. He could touch her now, all right. But in this state, he wasn’t safe with any woman, let alone this exquisite girl.
He sucked in more air. Speech was torture when every sense concentrated on Charis. “Please step away.”
Her grip around his waist tightened, and he felt desperation in the clawing fingers. She strained so close, he felt her every breath. And her trembling. “You’ll leave.”
“I must.” His voice cracked, and he clutched the doorknob so hard, his hand spasmed. “For God’s sake, Charis, do as I ask.”
For a long moment, she didn’t budge. Then, with tangible reluctance, she slid her arms away and straightened.
His animal hunger spiked, insisted he seize her, toss her on her back. Grinding his teeth, he beat back the raging demands.
He released the doorknob. His hand ached with stiffness. Slowly, against his will, he turned to face her.
She stood a couple of feet away. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. He’d been terrified he’d made her cry. But for all her palpable, quaking misery, she remained dry-eyed. In a defiant gesture he recognized, she lifted her chin as if she stared down death itself.
Swiftly, she tugged the nightdress over her head and flung it into the corner.
“Damn you, Charis,” he breathed, stepping toward her before he recalled he couldn’t touch her. “Don’t do this.”
Unclothed, she was…heavenly. Slender neck, straight shoulders, long graceful arms, high breasts with whorled pink crests. Flat belly punctuated by the sweet hollow of her navel.
Last, helplessly, his gaze focused on the delta between her legs. Blazing arousal flared. He swallowed and forced himself to breathe. He drank in the sight of her as he’d drink from an oasis after crossing a desert.
The desert still extended ahead.
Dry. Waterless. Barren. Deadly.
She glanced down at his trousers, then unflinchingly lifted her eyes. “You want me. I know it.” Her voice broke.
He strove to deny his desire. But his throat closed and wouldn’t permit that ultimate heresy.
His heart pumped out an inexorable rhythm. Two words. Over and over. Take her. Take her. Take her.
“Do I…do I please you?”
He fought to frame the lie, to tell her she meant nothing to him, to set her free.
Vibrating with tension, she stood before him. She stared back from steady hazel eyes, more brown than green. But her lips were soft with a vulnerability that mangled his gut.
He opened his mouth to speak.
She didn’t flinch. Nor did her gaze waver.
She must guess what he meant to say.