“What you mean is, trying to warn me about.” Breanna eased closer, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Yes, I understand.”
Royce sucked in his breath. He released her wrist, then rose to his knees, his fingers, of their own volition, gliding into the strands of her upswept hair. “This is a mistake.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. You're unnerved by what happened tonight. You're feeling vulnerable.”
“I'm feeling many things.” Breanna tilted back her head, studied the hard angles of his face in the firelight. “But right now, vulnerable isn't one of them.”
“Damn,” Royce hissed. He leaned forward, sliding his palm around to cup the nape of her neck, and drew her closer, staring down at her with an expression that sent live flames licking through her. “This is a mistake. An unprincipled, reckless mistake.”
Breanna gripped his shirt, raising up until their lips were inches apart “I don't care.”
With a harsh sound, Royce dragged her against him, crushing her mouth to his. There were no preliminaries this time. His lips devoured hers, parting them for the intimate invasion of his tongue. He delved deep, angling her head to give him greater access, taking her with heated, suggestive strokes of his tongue.
He twisted her around until he could lower her to the carpet. Then, he stretched out alongside her, half atop her as he continued his hot, drugging kisses. His tongue captured hers, caressed it in dizzying strokes, and his hand moved restlessly down to cover her breast.
Breanna was caught up in a vortex of physical awakening. When Royce's hand found her breast, she whimpered—a soft sound that Royce caught with his mouth. His thumb found and teased her nipple, circling it until it hardened and throbbed beneath his touch. She wound her arms around his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair. She was lost in sensation, in the sheer excitement of discovery.
Royce tore his mouth from hers, moved down her neck, her throat, searing her with each hungry caress. His lips closed around her nipple, tugged at it through the silk of her gown, and Breanna's eyes slid shut, her breath expelling in a rush. She clutched Royce's head, held him against her to prolong the pleasure. Shuddering at her touch, he stopped, but only long enough to reach behind her, undo the tiny row of buttons down her back.
He tugged down her bodice, his fingers automatically shifting to the ribbons of her chemise. “Tell me to stop,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.
“No.” Breanna shook her head from side to side, desperate to experience whatever magnificent sensations hovered just beyond her reach.
“Breanna.”
Her lids snapped open, and she met Royce's molten gaze.
'Tell me to stop,” he repeated, already tugging the first ribbon free.
T won't,” she said breathlessly. “I can't.”
With a stifled oath, Royce dispensed with the final barrier that separated him from his goal. He parted the sides of her chemise, and an awed expression tightened his features before he lowered his head, captured her taut nipple between his lips. “You're so beautiful,'' he muttered thickly, cupping her other breast as he sampled its mate. “And your taste... God, this is an even bigger mistake than I thought.”
Breanna didn't answer. She couldn't. Everything inside her was concentrated on the sensations storming her body. Royce's mouth on her skin... his hands... his breath... She wondered if pleasure this acute could be withstood.
Reflexively, she held him, wrapped her arms around his back. His shirt, which he'd haphazardly groaned when her knock had awakened him, was half-free, only partially tucked into his breeches. She took advantage of that, slipping her hands beneath the shirt, gliding her palms along the warm, hard planes of his back.
Every muscle went rigid beneath her caresses.
“Breanna.” He uttered her name in a hoarse rasp, his tongue lashing at her nipple even as his hands left her, moved to unbutton the front of his shirt.
Then, he was covering her, the hot, hair-roughened skin of his chest rubbing against her breasts.
This time, Breanna couldn't help but cry out. The sound was short-lived, because Royce was kissing her again. She opened her mouth eagerly to his, and he cradled her head in his hands, devouring her lips and shifting to increase the friction of his body against hers. Breanna savored every exquisite sensation, her nipples tightening painfully, liquid heat coursing through her.
“God, I want you,” Royce muttered, burning a trail of kisses down her neck, nuzzling the valley between her breasts. ?
??I want to bury myself so deep inside you that...” He stopped abruptly, as if the impact of his own words had suddenly registered. Forcing up his head, he stared down at her, his eyes burning with desire, his breathing harsh, uneven, tremors of reaction rippling through hint.
Almost violently, he tore himself away, rolled to one side. “Dammit.” He sat up, raked a hand through his hair. “Goddammit.”
“Royce?” Breanna turned her head, stared at the rigid lines of his back.
In reply, he pivoted, his hot gaze raking her bare torso once before he pulled the sides of her chemise together, helped her sit up.
“I obviously do have the ability to be gallant twice in one night,” he said, his voice still thick with desire. “Then again, that shouldn't surprise me. Not when it comes to you.”