He held her so firmly she couldn’t move. His body was hard, awakening unfamiliar sensations that rippled and spread, a trickle turning into a torrent of excitement.
Dimly Tamsin realised she didn’t want to move. That in fact her hands had crept up around his neck, linked there to stop herself falling. Neither did she mind the sense of him surrounding her, legs planted wide to anchor them both. Her eyes closed as her thoughts scrambled.
Bliss beckoned.
This was nothing like Patrick’s lukewarm attentions. Or the hesitant clumsiness she’d felt in his embrace.
For the first time Tamsin felt passion burst into scorching life. All she could do was acquiesce. And enjoy.
His kiss was fervent, almost angry, yet Tamsin had never known such delight. He ravished her mouth so fiercely she trembled with the force of it, bowed backwards as he surged forward, seemingly unable to slake his need.
And she welcomed him.
Despite his sudden aggressive ardour she wasn’t afraid. Instead it made her feel…powerful.
Vaguely she wondered at that, but her mind refused to compute the implications. She simply knew that with Alaric she was safe. Even if it was like stepping off a skyscraper into nothingness. His strong arms hauled her close and she gave herself to delight.
She kissed him back, revelling in the warm sensuality of their mouths melding. He licked her tongue and she moaned, her knees quaking at the impact of this sensual onslaught.
The kiss altered. He didn’t bend her back quite so ferociously, though he still strained against her. His hungry ardour eased into something more gentle but no less satisfying.
She breathed deep as he planted kisses along her jaw. Sensation bloomed with each caress. Her skin tingled and her breasts grew heavy. She thrust herself against him, needing his hardness just there. Her breath came in desperate gasps as she struggled to fill air-starved lungs. She clung tight, wanting more.
He moved to kiss her on the mouth again and bumped her glasses askew.
Instantly he froze. As if that simple action reminded him who he was kissing. Not a svelte sophisticate but plain Tamsin Connors.
He stilled, lips at the sensitive corner of her mouth. Tamsin held her breath, desperate for him to kiss her again. Craving more of his magic.
His steely embrace loosened and firm hands clasped her shoulders, steadying her as if he knew her legs felt like stretched elastic. He pulled back and she swayed, bereft of his heat and strength.
A protest hovered on her swollen lips but she swallowed it. She would not beg for more. Not now she saw the dawning horror on his face. The unmistakeable regret in the way his gaze slid to her mouth then away.
‘Are you OK?’ His voice was gruff, his expression stern. He was embarrassed, she realised.
Pity had provoked the kiss, but the reminder of who it was he embraced had stopped him in his tracks.
The lovely, lush taste of him turned to ashes on her tongue. The thrill that had hummed through her with every caress died.
There was no magic. It had been a kindness gone wrong. An act of charity from a man who felt sorry for her.
Anger and regret chased each other in a sickening tumble of emotions. At least, she told herself, he hadn’t deliberately set out to dupe her, like Patrick. She’d duped herself into believing that kiss was real.
Now she had to pick up the pieces. Pretend it didn’t matter that he’d unthinkingly awoken heart-pounding desire in a woman who’d never known its like before.
Tamsin wanted to howl her despair.
But she had the torn remnants of her dignity. She might only be suitable as a decoy, not wanted for herself, but he needn’t know he’d shredded her self-respect.
Deliberately she lifted a hand to set her glasses straight on her face. It was a gesture of habit, but never had it held such significance.
‘I’m fine, thank you, Alaric. How are you?’
Alaric stared at the cool-eyed woman before him and struggled with his vocal cords. They’d shut down, just like his brain when he’d hauled her into his arms and slammed his mouth against hers.
Even now he was barely in control of himself! One moment of madness had turned into something more. Something that threatened the boundaries he used to keep from feeling, from engaging fully in the world around him.
He’d kissed countless women but not one had made him feel. Not like this.
Who the hell was she? What had she done to him? Passion was a pleasure, a release, an escape. Never had it overwhelmed him like that.
‘You’re sure?’ He sounded strangled, like an untried teen, hot and bothered by his first taste of desire.
‘Of course.’ Her brows rose in splendid indifference. As if being accosted by lust-ridden strangers was an inconsequential distraction.
Alaric scrubbed a hand over his face, annoyed to note the slight tremor in his fingers.