r the humiliation of being turned down by him just now, not with her nerves so raw and unstable.
"You don't want me?" she asked shakily.
His heart turned over. She was burrowing against him like a small animal seeking shelter, and he longed to comfort her, protect her, reassure her.
"Not want you?" He laughed harshly. "I've wanted you every day for the past two weeks . . . ever since I saw you galloping down the street in your morning robe."
"I thought . . . you were just playing a game with me, trying to prove you could charm me like you could every other woman."
"A man doesn't kiss a woman the way I kissed you if he doesn't want her, Jessica." His voice had thickened, and without his being aware of it, his grip had loosened on her chin, his fingers spreading lightly over the warm, silky texture of her cheek, stroking it soothingly.
"Will you kiss me again at least?"
Devlin inhaled sharply, striving for control. Her breath was warm and sweet against his face, while her fingers had curled into his shirt. Even that brief touch speared him with desire; need ground through his body, making his loins hot and heavy. God, how he wanted her. Yet he felt the urge to protect as well as the urge to take.
"Devlin, please?"
"Jess . . ." he said warningly. He let out a pent-up breath and forced himself to recall all the reasons why what she was asking was insane, impossible. He'd promised himself he wouldn't seduce her. He didn't want to hurt her, and hurt was all he would bring her. He wouldn't be staying around once his mission was finished. He couldn't fulfill Jess's dream of a marriage and kids. He wasn't the kind of man she needed. He couldn't let her throw away her virginity on him. If they somehow lived through this, she would regret her rashness. She might even come to hate him for it. He didn't want her to hate him. . . .
"Devlin, please? Make love to me."
He thought of being inside her and a jolt of pure driving lust swept through him.
"Jessica," he said again, but with an agonized note of indecision in his voice. They might not make it. A man shouldn't die without tasting a woman on his lips. A woman shouldn't die without knowing the ecstasy a skillful lover could give her.
Jess waited, listening to the powerful beating of his heart beneath her ear, feeling the tensely coiled muscles in his body as he held her. She knew what she wanted him to do was wicked, foolish. But right or wrong, foolish or wise, she wasn't going to change her mind. Devlin was something real and warm to cling to in the dark night. She didn't want to spend what might her last moments on earth being terrified. She wanted to forget that she was trapped in this dark hole, waiting to die. Devlin could make her forget her dire situation, her grim surroundings. He could make a woman forget her very name if he tried. And that, even more than simple comfort, was what she wanted. She wanted to know what it really meant to be a woman . . . Devlin's woman.
She lifted her head again. She could see nothing, not his beautiful face, not even the gleam of his eyes. She welcomed the darkness, though; it hid embarrassment, fear, nervousness. Yet it couldn't hide the feeling that ached in the pit of her stomach, the breathless tightness of her throat.
Cautiously, hardly daring to breathe, she raised her hand to his face, letting her fingertips brush the hard edge of his jaw.
"Jess, stop it."
She touched his mouth, his beautiful, sensuous mouth.
"Dammit, Jess. . . ."
"Please, kiss me. . . ."
"All right, I'll kiss you, but that's all I'll do."
"That's not all I want—"
His lips found hers abruptly as he rolled over her, pinning her down. Hard and determined, they covered her soft, dewy mouth in a kiss meant only to silence her. He didn't want to hear her pleading with him. There was no way in hell he could listen to her begging him to make love to her and not respond. He was only a man, with a man's weaknesses, a man's fierce desire.
At his sudden assault, Jess sighed and wrapped her arms around Devlin's neck, losing herself in the dark magic of his lips. This was what she wanted, what she needed. They could die tomorrow, but for now she would live. Their imminent danger only added a distinct urgency to the moment, to her need for him.
She returned his kiss almost desperately, with all the frustrated yearning he had aroused in her body during the past two weeks. She strained against him, the swollen tips of her breasts pressing against his hard chest, her hips seeking his instinctively and finding the hard tumescence that made him male.
By the time Devlin broke off the kiss and drew away, her breath was coming in soft pants, and so was his.
"That's enough," he said hoarsely.
"No . . . it's not."
"Jess. . . ." Almost of their own volition, his fingers moved to cradle her cheek. Stop me, Jess, don't let this happen. Against his will, he bent his head again.
He kissed her once more, knowing it was wrong. But he wouldn't, couldn't, deny her. He would give her what she wanted . . . at least some of what she wanted.