He reached for her again.
‘Does it feel like I’m not attracted?’ With his hands on her hips he jerked her back so his arousal pressed blatantly against her buttocks. He almost groaned at how right that felt.
The breath hissed from her lungs as he slid his palms over her belly and ground his hips in a slow rotation that left him light-headed.
‘I want you, Tamsin. I brought you here with the express intention of getting you into my bed.’ He slipped one hand down to the moist heat between her thighs and felt her shudder as he homed in on that most sensitive of spots.
‘Or not. Anywhere would do. The sleigh, the barn, the kitchen. I don’t care. But I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to keep my distance because I realised too late how I’ve taken advantage. I’m responsible—’
‘You’re not responsible for me.’ Her defiance was belied by her throaty pleasure as her lower body moved a fraction against his stroking fingers. Her responsiveness cracked his resolve further and he slid himself provocatively against her cushioning curves.
‘I’m responsible for taking your innocence.’
‘You’re talking antiquated rubbish. It’s my business when I choose to lose my virginity.’
‘That doesn’t diminish my culpability.’
‘Oh!’ With a violent jerk Tamsin freed herself and swung to face him. Before he could prevent her she snatched up the coverlet and hid all that firm, glorious flesh. ‘You’re infuriating! Do you always take the world on your shoulders?’
Alaric watched passion animate her features and felt desire cloud his brain. ‘I knew what I was doing. You didn’t.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You know, women even have the vote these days. We’re capable of making decisions about who we want to make love to.’
Make love. It hit him with a jolt that for the first time the euphemism seemed more apt than ‘having sex’.
Ridiculous. What they’d shared was carnal pleasure at its most raw. Pleasure so complete he could no longer resist its pull. Love didn’t enter into it.
‘All right. Who do you want to make love to?’ Alaric loomed towards her. His conscience could go hang.
Tamsin shuffled back, eyes widening as she realised she was trapped against the bed.
‘I want to go back to the castle.’
‘No, you don’t. You want to climb on that mattress and let me show you the things we didn’t have time for earlier.’ Heat sizzled under his skin just watching her shocked delight as she processed his words. The furtive way her eyes darted to the bed. ‘I want it too.’
She tilted her chin defiantly and her grip tightened on the bedspread. ‘It didn’t sound like it a minute ago. Are you sure?’
‘Totally.’
‘Why?’
Why? The question flummoxed him. Couldn’t she feel the erotic charge leaping between them? Didn’t she understand what they’d shared had been remarkable, despite its brevity? So wondrous, so perfect no one in their right mind could walk away from it. He speared a hand through his hair in frustration. Why did women always want to talk?
The belligerent jut of her finely honed jaw said she wasn’t going to make this easy.
‘Because I’ve wanted you so long,’ he murmured, finally giving himself up to the truth. ‘Since I walked into the library and saw your sexy leg swinging above my head. Since I discovered a woman who challenges and intrigues and piques my curiosity. Who’s passionate about something as complex as translating ancient books and as simple as a waltz. Who’s not overawed by my title. Who’s not charmed by wealth and prestige and isn’t afraid to tell me what she thinks.’
‘This isn’t about duping those other women?’ She gnawed on her lip and hurt shaded her fine eyes.
Alaric’s mouth thinned and he silently cursed the fact he’d used that excuse to keep her close. If he’d known how unsure she was about her own desirability he’d never have done it. It had taken him too long to understand that her professional confidence hid deep vulnerability.
‘It’s got nothing to do with anyone but us.’
He lifted a hand and stroked the hair from her face, revelling in the way she swayed infinitesimally towards him. ‘You’re the most naturally sexy woman. Yet you hide your sensuality from everyone but me.’ He smiled and slid a hand down her throat to where her pulse thrummed.
‘Do you know what a turn on it is, being the only one in on your secret? Seeing your buttoned up shirts and long skirts, your sensible shoes and no-nonsense bun? Knowing that beneath is a siren who makes my pulse race with just one demure glance from those brilliant eyes?’